


Derek's Girl

by GentlyWithAChainsaw



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Boypussy, Cock Worship, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Major body modification, Mpreg, Non-Consensual Body Modification, Obsessive Behavior, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panties, Punishment, Rape/Non-con Elements, Stalking, Stockholm Syndrome, corsets, threat of castration
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-20
Updated: 2018-02-21
Packaged: 2019-01-01 01:18:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 8
Words: 42,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12145464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GentlyWithAChainsaw/pseuds/GentlyWithAChainsaw
Summary: Derek wants Stiles for his mate. He just needs to make a few adjustments first.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt from Antigone (Dimhiriel): If i could make a wish i would like to read one in wich Stiles is kidnapped by Derek and forced to become a girl (you wrote a forced child Stiles and a forced dog bitch Stiles so why not a forced feminization? XP). Lots and lots of brainwashing and noncon to dubcon to enthusiastic consent. 
> 
> Thanks for the great prompt, Antigone (Dimhiriel)! I had planned to make this a one-shot, but I had so much fun writing it that I decided to make it multiple chapters. Happy to take additional ideas for it in the comments.

Derek has always been just a little more feral than most werewolves, and that’s why he needs a mate. 

It started when he reached puberty. All the good changes came, the deep voice and hairy chest and full beta transformation, but there was also a new, sudden longing deep within him. He would wake up from vivid dreams to find himself humping a pillow, groaning in frustration as the images in his fevered mind faded away. He chased smells on the air, the tantalizing scents of perfume and shampoo. He would tear up during the romantic movies his mother loved, imagining himself in the hero’s place. 

His mother tells him that it’s natural. He’s born to be an alpha, and to be a true alpha he has to take a mate. Someday he’ll find the perfect woman, crafted to bear his pups and love and support him in every way. 

He thinks he finds that perfect someone in Kate. His joy in her is so complete and all-encompassing that it shuts out everything, including the ugly truth. 

Kate burns his family. 

Everything is gone. 

After that, Derek’s mind breaks a little. He’s lost his pack and the woman he thought was his mate, all in one fell swoop. For a while, the wolf in him takes over, and when rational thought finally returns to him it’s forever tinged with the wolf’s stark and animalistic way of seeing the world. 

He can never have his family back. But he needs another mate. A real one this time; one that will never leave or hurt him. He has to find someone who comes to him with no baggage, no secrets in her closet. If he could, he would create her from thin air, just to ensure that she can be completely trusted. 

Each Saturday he goes into town and looks at all the girls he can find. It’s best to find a mate in the shadows, rather than see who comes to him—anyone who would approach him or be willing to meet him somewhere might have ulterior motives. He moves as inconspicuously as possible, trying to scent them and listen to them speak, imagining taking them home. 

When he doesn’t find anyone at first he tells himself not to worry. Finding the perfect mate takes time. Being picky is the safest choice. But as the time passes, he realizes that there might not be a perfect mate out there for him. Not anymore. 

Every time he sees a girl whose scent calls to him, she’ll turn her head or laugh a certain way and he’ll be reminded of Kate. He’ll spot someone beautiful and get close enough to realize that her scent reminds him too much of Kate’s when they first met. Every girl nauseates him when he really considers choosing her, because every girl is Kate to him, deep down. 

And then he finds the boy. 

The boy is at the library the first time Derek sees him. Derek liked the idea of finding a mate at the library—girls who liked books seemed more trustworthy to him than others—but it’s usually so empty that Derek doesn’t bother going. 

The boy is in the history section. His brow is wrinkled in concentration as he pulls books out from the shelves. He totters under their weight and Derek fights back an impulse to rush and help him. 

He’s obviously a boy, though his facial features are delicate enough to be called pretty. Still, Derek finds himself unable to pull his eyes away to other, more suitable candidates. He walks by the shelves, inhaling as he goes, and catches the floral notes of the boy’s scent. Nothing like Kate’s. 

The boy grabs another book and heads for the checkout counter. Derek moves quickly so he can continue to watch him. His fingers are long and slim. He’s smiling as he walks, almost mindlessly, as if he’s just used to thinking happy thoughts. An image pops into Derek’s mind of the boy wrapped up in bedsheets on a lazy morning, giggling at Derek. 

The librarian says something to him and the boy blushes. Color spills into his cheeks, and his long eyelashes flutter as he takes the books back, and just like that Derek knows he’s found the one. 

X 

It doesn’t take as long as Derek would have expected to talk himself into doing what he has to do. He learns that the boy is Stiles Stilinski, the son of the Beacon Hills sheriff. That won’t do. Police officers are twice as likely to be hunters than the general population. Stiles absolutely must be removed from that environment and be kept safely by Derek’s side. 

Derek researches him carefully. When Stiles is out of the house and the sheriff is at work Derek moves through their home, checking the fridge and closets and anything else he can find that gives him an idea of who Stiles really is. He loves to watch the boy in secret, getting used to his wisecracking and nervous stuttering and shy smile. He really is perfect—with one exception. 

Derek isn’t interested in having a male for a mate. His human side doesn’t particularly care about something so trivial, but his wolf side is stubborn in wanting a female—someone who can give him pups for his pack. Someone who can be soft, rather than a challenge for dominance. 

But Derek needs that scent and lovely smile and blush and fluttering eyelashes that he saw in the library. If he has to trick his wolf side a little so he can have that, so be it. 

Getting his mate to accept things might be difficult, but Derek will persuade him. Everything will be perfect. 

He renovates his house in preparation. Where his parents room used to be becomes the room he will share with his mate, complete with a four-poster bed, vanity set, and walk-in closet. He finds his mate new clothes, guessing as best he can at the size. 

Soon, there’s only one thing missing. 

X 

Derek waits outside his mate’s house. He’s angry. He’d come here after hearing on the police scanner he’d gotten his hands on that the Sheriff had been called to a major domestic disturbance dispute. It had seemed so perfect. His mate was supposed to be home alone, all ready for Derek to finally come calling. 

But his mate has chosen to go out with _friends_. The house is empty. Derek is currently hiding in his mate’s closet, surrounded by the comforting scent of his mate’s clothes. He’s been waiting for over an hour. It’s past nine o’clock. 

He tells himself to calm down. His mate hadn’t known that Derek was coming. Soon those friends won’t matter. His mate will spend the days with Derek and Derek alone. His whole world will be Derek. Just as it should be. 

The door downstairs slams and Derek freezes. He hears laughter and voices on the stairs, and Stiles walks into the bedroom with someone else. Derek peeks through the slats of the closet and is so angry he nearly snarls aloud. His mate has brought a boy up to his room. 

That is _it_. Derek isn’t going to let this little minx out of his sight _ever_ going forward. 

They’re talking about something ridiculous, some girl named Lydia and the clothes she was wearing today. That makes Derek relax a little. He wonders if Stiles admires Lydia’ clothes, or was jealous of the way she looked in them. He’ll have to reassure Stiles that he’s twice as beautiful as this Lydia girl, whoever she is. 

It’s a relief to see that the boy with Stiles doesn’t try anything. Derek would be unable to hold himself back if he did. He only stays for a few minutes more before leaving, giving Stiles a casual wave as he goes. Derek is glad it wasn’t a hug; he doesn’t want his mate’s scent polluted. 

Stiles tosses his phone onto the bed, then pulls of his shirt. His creamy skin is so beautiful and Derek knows it’s time. He opens the closet door and steps out, already reaching for the bottle in his back pocket. 

Stiles lets out a strangled yelp. He falls over his feet as he tries to back away from Derek, and Derek catches him easily, hiding a grin at the thought that Stiles has just swooned into his arms. “Sh,” he whispers, holding Stiles around the waist. He pulls out the bottle and rag with his free hand, flicks off the top, and douses the rag. 

“Rest easy, beautiful,” he murmurs into Stiles’ ear before he presses the rag over Stiles’ nose and mouth. Stiles goes limp so quickly and Derek pulls the rag away, unable to resist stealing a little kiss. His wolf purrs with satisfaction. 

Derek magnanimously decides to let go of his earlier anger. How can he be angry with something this beautiful and innocent, sleeping like an enchanted princess in Derek’s embrace? His mate hadn’t known any better. Besides, it will never happen again. 

All her nights belong to Derek now. 

X 

Derek wastes no time when he returns home. He takes his mate into the bathroom and pulls out the hair removal cream. Everything must go: the chest hair, leg hair, and slight bristle on the upper lip. The cream he’s using is supposed to be permanent if used consistently. The estrogen his mate will take daily will ensure that’s the case. 

He gives his mate a bath, putting in some bubbles since he knows women love that kind of indulgence. It’s lovely to scrub his mate now that all the hair is removed, feeling the smooth softness of his mate’s creamy skin. 

He only puts on a little makeup, enough to play up his mate’s most feminine features. Then he dresses his mate in a lacy pink nightgown and tucks her into the bed. She goes on sleeping and Derek wants to wake her with a kiss, like a prince in a storybook. But she needs time to be asleep. He wants her to wake up and step easily into her new life—into Derek’s arms. 

Drawing back the covers on his side of the bed and sliding in next to her is the best feeling in the world. Derek smiles, giving her a small kiss on the cheek, and turns off the light. 

For the first time in years, he doesn’t dream of fire. 

X 

It’s difficult work, taking care of his mate, but Derek knows she’s worth it. The most important step right now is keeping her asleep without overdosing her. A few times Derek thinks she surfaces a little, but he’s always right there by her side, ready to help her back under. 

While she sleeps, he continues to use the special cream on her body. He also injects her with estrogen, thankful as always to have his family’s emissary still there for him, providing whatever Derek needs without asking any questions. When his mate is finally ready to wake up, the estrogen will hopefully have done enough good work that her new role as Derek’s mate won’t be too difficult to bear. 

It occurs to him that she needs a new name. It wouldn’t be proper to keep calling her by that silly boy’s name. Something sweet and feminine, he thinks, but still close enough to her old name that it won’t feel completely foreign. 

“Sasha?” he tries aloud in bed that night, holding her in his arms with one hand rubbing a gentle circle on her thighs. “Sara? Stella?” 

Nothing feels right. He falls asleep thinking about it, but has no clarity the next morning. “Sylvia?” he guesses as he puts on clothes. “Sierra? Selina?” 

No, no, and no. He sighs. He knows he’s anxious today because he has to go out and leave her for the first time. She’ll be ready to wake up soon, and he needs a few last-minute supplies for her. 

Before he leaves he kneels over her on the bed, kissing her deeply. “Don’t miss me too much,” he whispers. He presses one last kiss into her palm and leaves, hoping she can have sweet dreams even without him there. 

As he drives, he plays love songs on the radio, thinking about what a relief it is to once more have someone to think of when the songs play. Someday he’ll dance to these songs with his perfect girl in his arms, spinning her into an embrace so he can prompt that perfect laugh he’d heard so many times when he’d watched her. 

When he reaches the drugstore, he’s startled to see a picture of his mate on the bulletin board outside. A missing poster has been put up for her. Derek stops by it, staring at what’s posted. 

_Missing: Genim “Stiles” Stilinski._

All her other information is there, but Derek keeps staring at the name. _Genim_. He hadn’t known there was a different first name. No wonder none of the new names he’s been trying haven’t worked—he’s been using the wrong first initial. 

Just like that the perfect name comes to him in a flash. The beautiful girl waiting for him at home is named _Gemma_. 

Derek feels a huge grin break over his face. He heads inside the store and grabs a basket. He buys more than he needs to—wine, a box of chocolates, heated slippers, a new lipgloss, nail polish, and, from the display up front, a bouquet of red roses. The elderly woman checking him out looks at his basket and beams at him. 

“Someone has a very lucky girl at home,” she says with a wink. 

Derek smiles at her as he takes out his wallet. “Trust me,” he tells her. “I’m the lucky one.” 

He breaks the speed limit all the way home and is relieved to see she’s still sleeping deeply when he arrives. “I’m home, Gemma,” he whispers to her, grinning again at how perfect the name is. His beautiful treasure. His Gemma. 

If he doesn’t dose her again, she’ll wake up in about three to four hours. He wants her to feel as comfortable as possible when that happens, so he quickly gives her another bath, washing and blow-drying her hair for her, and reapplies her lipstick and mascara. He dresses her in his favorite nightwear—a pretty white, short nightgown with a matching robe. 

As much as he hates to do it, he knows she might be agitated when she wakes up, so he carefully ties her hands to the headboard. He just doesn’t want her trying to run or fight him. It will be much better to keep her in the bed where their scents have already comingled, safely tucked into his arms. 

Then he climbs back into bed with her and waits. 

X 

The first thing that comes back to Stiles is thirst. He’s so thirty it feels like his whole body is a well run dry, an empty husk left out in the sun. 

The second thing that comes back to him is fear. He doesn’t know why he’s afraid, but something in the back of his mind tells him that he’s in danger. Something terrible happened to him, didn’t it? 

He moans as he tries to rise all the way to the surface. There’s a fumbling sound and a straw pokes between his lips. He sucks, and almost cries with gratitude when water flows down his throat. 

His fear dissipates as he drinks. He’s not in danger. He must be at a hospital, or sick in bed or something. Everything’s all right. 

He finally manages to open his eyes. The first thing he sees is a man leaning over him, eyes wide with concern. 

“Gemma? How are you doing?” 

Stiles blinks sluggishly at him. “W-who…?” 

The man smiles at him. “You’re still pretty out of it, huh? You’re okay, Gemma. You’ve just been asleep for a while.” 

Stiles tries to sit up, but something tugs him back. He turns his head to see that his arms are tied to the bed. 

Terror rockets through him. He pulls his arms as hard as he can, but the restraints don’t budge. “Help me,” he rasps. “Oh, God. Who are you? What’s—” 

“Sweetheart, don’t tug like that. You’ll bruise.” The man tries to still him gently, placing his hands on Stiles shoulders and pushing him back down. “Don’t you remember me?” 

“N-no, I _don’t know you_ …” 

“Yes, you do,” the man says patiently. “I’m your boyfriend, remember? I’m Derek. We were together, and you fainted. You’re back home now, in our bed. I’ve been taking care of you.” 

Stiles shakes his head and tries to pull away. “I don’t know you. I don’t know you!” 

“Gemma.” Derek looks hurt. “Of course you do.” He leans forward, placing one hand on Stiles’ head to hold him still, and kisses him. His lips are warm and soft for the moment Stiles can feel them before he jerks away. 

“Don’t tell me you don’t remember _that_ ,” Derek says, smiling at him. 

“You’re crazy,” Stiles whispers. 

“Gemma—” 

“Stop calling me that! That’s not my name!” 

Derek’s expression shifts a little. His hand grips Stiles’ arm a little tighter than before. “You’re so confused, sweetheart. Maybe you should go back to bed. You’re always so grumpy when you don’t get enough sleep. A few more hours of rest will probably help you.” 

Stiles shakes his head frantically. “No, please. I don’t want to sleep.” 

“Well, we’re not going to sit here and fight. I hate fighting with my girl.” Derek cups Stiles’ cheek with his hand, brushing his thumb over Stiles’ cheekbone. “You _are_ my girl, Gemma,” he whispers. “That’s the _only_ thing you need to remember.” 

Stiles stares at him. He tries to remember everything his dad has ever taught him about handling dangerous situations. They’ve never gotten quite this specific, but he pulls up some of his dad’s lessons. _Be smart. Get as much information as possible. Don’t make him angry._

“How long?” he asks, voice cracking in the middle of the words. “How long have I been… your girl?” 

Derek looks pleased with this question. “A few months. We met in the library. You looked so beautiful, Gem. You knocked me off my feet.” 

“And how long since I f-fainted?” 

“Four days.” 

Four days? His dad must be frantic. “Can I call my dad? Let him know I’m safe with you?” 

Derek’s whole demeanor changes. It’s like his body coils a little, preparing to spring. Stiles shrinks back in terror. “You really _are_ confused,” Derek says coldly. “My mate doesn’t _have_ a father. If she did, I might not be able to trust her not to be a hunter, and if I couldn’t trust her, I couldn’t love her, and if I didn’t love her, why would I be taking such good care of her?” 

_Mate? Hunter?_ The words stick out, but Stiles can barely think about them, not when Derek is looking at him like he wants to rip out his throat. “You’re right,” he chokes. “I’m so sorry. I was confused.” 

Derek’s smile returns, just like that. “Would you like me to remind you of everything, Gemma? So you won’t say any other silly things?” 

Stiles nods quickly. 

“We live here together in my family’s old house. It’s just the two of us right now. I’ve chosen you as my mate, but that won’t be official for a little while yet, not until…well, we can talk about that later. Your name is Gemma, of course, and mine’s Derek Hale. You’re such a shy girl, you don’t like seeing other people or going out very often. You prefer waiting here for me to bring you things home, which suits me just fine. You love all your pretty clothes and makeup and perfumes. Every day you have to take your shot. Don’t worry, I’ve been taking care of it while you’ve been asleep.” 

_Your shot?_ Oh, God. What has Derek been doing to him? “Wh-what’s in my shot, Derek? I can’t remember.” 

Derek laughs. “Why does a pretty little thing like you need to worry your head about that, hm? And, of course, before I forget—I’m a werewolf, but you’re not. That isn’t important to me. You’re everything I need just like this.” 

Holy shit. Derek is in a whole other universe of delusion. Stiles nods, trying to look casual. “Yep. Of course. No problem.” 

Derek looks surprised for a moment, then beams. “It means so much to me that it doesn’t matter to you either, sweetheart. You are so perfect, do you know that?” He leans down to kiss Stiles again. Everything in Stiles wants to jerk away, but instead he holds still, letting Derek kiss him deeply. 

“Derek?” he says hesitantly when Derek finally pulls away. “My arms are really sore. Can you untie them, please?” 

“They wouldn’t be sore if you didn’t tug so much,” Derek tells him patiently. 

“But I—I have to go to the bathroom.” As he says it, he realizes it’s true. He winces as the feeling becomes stronger. Derek’s expression quickly becomes apologetic. 

“Oh, honey, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think. Of course, let’s get you to the toilet.” 

He unties Stiles’ wrist, taking a moment to massage them once they’re released. Then he pulls back the covers. Stiles stares down at himself, shocked to find himself wearing a nightgown. Not only that—his hair is gone. His chest, arms legs—completely bare. 

“Oh, my God.” He hears his voice shaking and thinks he might cry. “Wh-what…” 

Derek laughs. He grabs Stiles’ hands and hoists him up, so quickly that Stiles can’t catch his balance and falls into Derek’s waiting embrace. “What? You want me to tell you how beautiful you are?” He kisses the tip of Stiles’ nose. “You’re beautiful, babe. Let’s get you to the bathroom.” 

Derek practically has to drag him to the bathroom, which is attached to the bedroom. The sink is cluttered with makeup and toiletries. Stiles can see himself in the mirror. He’s wearing lipstick and his eyes look huge. He peers a little closer and sees that Derek has clearly plucked his eyebrows. 

“Go ahead,” Derek says, finally letting him go. “I’ll just stay right here to make sure you don’t hurt yourself.” 

Stiles swallows hard. He stands over the toilet, hiking up the nightgown. He’s not wearing any underwear. The thought of Derek undressing him… 

Derek suddenly clears his throat loudly. Stiles looks over to see him wearing the same deadly expression as before. “Gemma,” he says quietly. “Is that really how girls use the toilet? 

Stiles blushes bright red and quickly sits down. His mind races, trying to find questions he can ask Derek that won’t make him too angry. “When I… fainted,” he says slowly. “W-we were in Beacon Hills, right?” 

“Of course.” 

“Where are we now?” 

“We’re still in Beacon Hills. Our house is deep in the woods. Someday we can have a picnic outside. I have all your favorites downstairs, whenever you’re hungry…strawberries, chocolate mousse, smoked salmon…” 

Stiles _does_ love all of those foods. How does Derek know that? He rises shakily and flushes the toilet. Derek steps forward to take his arm again as he washes his hands at the sink. They both look up at the same time, staring at their reflections in the mirror. Derek smiles. 

“We look so good together, don’t we?” he says softly. His finger twines in Stiles’ hair, tugging it a little. “I want this grown out to about here,” he says, bringing his hand to just above Stiles’ shoulder. “I thought about getting you a wig, for the meantime, but you don’t need it. You’re so pretty. I don’t know how I got so lucky to end up with a girl like you.” He bumps Stiles’ cheek with his nose affectionally. 

Stiles can’t hold it back any longer. Derek seems so _normal_ right now, looking at Stiles with his gentle, loving eyes. “Derek,” he whispers. “Y-you know I’m not…” 

Derek hushes him, placing one finger gently over his painted lips. “It’s easier for you this way, Gemma,” he murmurs. “We could try this another way, but it would be so ugly. I don’t want to hurt you. This way I can take care of you. We can take baby steps together, and soon you’ll see things my way.” 

“But Derek— _look_ at me. I—” 

“I am looking,” Derek assures him. “I’ve been looking for a long time, sweetheart.” His arms slip down, enclosing Stiles in something between an embrace and a restraint. One hand gently passes over Stiles’ chest, tweaking at his nipple through the silk of the nightdress. “You’re so fucking sexy, it drives me crazy. This perfect body…” his hand continues to travel down, over Stiles’ waist. He brightens suddenly. “Oh—I completely forgot to check the mail today! Something special should be arriving for you. Come on, I want to see if it came.” 

He tugs Stiles out of the bathroom by the hand. Stiles is hoping he’ll take him out of the room and outside to the mailbox, but instead he leads Stiles back over to the bed and gently nudges him back down onto the bed. “Hands up, sweetheart.” 

“No, Derek. Please, I don’t want my hands tied.” 

“I’m afraid it’s not negotiable. Lift them and hold them still, please. The faster you do it, the faster I can give you your present.” Derek waits, but Stiles stays completely still. “Gemma, please stop being silly. You don’t need any more bruises on your wrists.” 

“I don’t want to be tied up,” Stiles whispers. His voice is trembling and he can feel tears in his eyes. He feels sure that Derek is going to hurt him, but he can’t bring himself to let Derek restrain him. 

To his surprise. Derek smiles. “I see what you’re doing. You can’t just pout at me and expect to get your own way all the time. But here, I’ll make it a little easier for you.” Before Stiles can react Derek is kissing him, leaning against him with his full weight. He pries Stiles’ mouth open with his tongue and slips it inside, exploring Stiles’ mouth with gusto. As he does it Stiles feels him yank his hands up, tying them together deftly while Stiles is kept pinned to the bed. He finally removes his tongue and leans back, looping the rope around the headboard and tying it tightly. 

“There you go. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” 

Stiles stares at him in shock. He can feel lipstick smeared around his mouth and his breath comes in pants. Derek looks smug at his reaction. “You’ll get more later,” he promises. “First, your present.” 

He leaves the room and Stiles finally lets a few tears escape. This is _really, really_ bad. Who is this guy? How does he know so much about Stiles? What does he want from him? He can’t really expect Stiles to stay here with him, pretending to be a girl for the rest of his life. Has he done this to other people? What happened to them when the fantasy ended? 

He’s on the verge of a panic attack when Derek returns to the room, holding a manila package and grinning hugely. The smile fades a little when he sees Stiles. “Oh, Gemma, I’m so sorry. Are you alright? I forgot you don’t like to be left alone.” He sits on the bed, resting a hand on Stiles’ foot. 

Stiles takes deep breaths, trying to ignore Derek’s presence. He has to calm down. 

“I’ve got something that will make you feel better,” Derek says teasingly. He waves the package at him. “I ordered it special online. Want to see?” 

Stiles shakes his head and Derek’s smile disappears. “Are you sure? I don’t think that’s how nice girls behave when their boyfriends buy them special gifts. You _are_ a nice girl, aren’t you, Gemma? I’m done dealing with bad girls, they can’t be trusted. You don’t want your feet tied too, do you?” 

Stiles looks away sullenly. “Open it,” he mutters. 

Derek tears open the package and proudly lifts out a thick, cream colored object with three panels and ribbons hanging off the back. It takes Stiles a moment to recognize it: a corset. 

“It took me a while to get your measurements, but I think it should fit you perfectly. It’s steel boned—a training corset to develop those gorgeous curves a little. You’ll wear this every day. Let’s put it on now.” 

He unties Stiles’ hands again and props him up. He pulls the robe off, then gently nudges the spaghetti straps of the nightdress off of Stiles’ shoulders. 

“W-wait,” Stiles gasps, realizing that Derek is undressing him. “I-I can do it myself. You shouldn’t look at me naked.” 

Derek snorts. “I’ve already seen you plenty, babe. Please don’t be modest around me. You’re my girl, remember? I don’t need to ask permission when it comes to you.” He pushes the nightdress the rest of the way down, until it puddles around Stiles’ feet. “Now hold still,” he whispers, breath tickling Stiles’ ear. He fits the corset around him and pulls the laces tightly. Stiles feels it cinching his waist, drawing the breath from his lungs. 

“It’s too tight,” he chokes. 

“It’s supposed to be tight, silly girl. We want it to work, don’t we?” Derek sounds satisfied. He finishes tying the laces, then runs his hands over the side of Stiles’ body, making a small sound of appreciation at the way the corset fits. “My God, Gemma. This is better than I imagined.” 

“I don’t like it. Please, Derek, take it off.” 

“You don’t know how good this makes you look.” Derek pauses, then takes Stiles hand. “Feel this.” 

He draws Stiles’ hand backwards and places it on a warm bulge. Stiles realizes that it’s his erection, straining through his pants. “That’s how sexy you look,” Derek whispers. 

Stiles tries to yank his hand away, but Derek holds it in place. His hand on top of Stiles’ tightens a moment, then he releases it. “Let me just finish the top. There’s a little clasp here. You won’t be able to reach it on your own, but that’s fine. I’m the lucky guy who gets to take this off you at night.” 

He finishes his work, humming with satisfaction. His lips land softly on Stiles’ shoulder, then travel upwards to his neck. Stiles squirms at the sensation and Derek chuckles, giving him one last kiss behind his ear. “Now,” he whispers. “Let’s get those hands back where they should be, and I’ll go make you some lunch. Then we’ll cuddle for a little while. I want to tell you all the places I used to watch you. You won’t believe how much I’ve seen, sweetheart. I know you better than anyone. I fell in love with you just by watching you. Being able to hold you now…” Derek shudders a little. “Gemma, sweetheart, I feel like the luckiest guy in the world. I’ll never let you go.” 

X 

Derek can’t believe how well Gemma’s first day awake goes. She’s a little skittish, but Derek knows that will fade. Besides, she wouldn’t be his smart, strong girl if she didn’t try to fight a little. 

Derek anticipates that he’ll need to be a little stern with her eventually. Sweet words won’t be enough to win her over completely—she needs to be broken in a little. But that’s all right. She’ll forgive him eventually. 

And soon—Derek smiles with anticipation. As far as he was concerned, she became his mate the moment he saw her in the library. But he needs to make things official. He can’t wait to feel her warm, wet cunt around his cock. It’s hard not to take her right now, mark her lovely skin with love bites and make her pretty little clit run dry. 

But it’s important to wait. A girl’s first time has to be special. Derek will make it so perfect for her, so the only tears she sheds are ones of love and happiness. 

Until then, Derek will work hard to soothe her, to teach her how to behave like a proper lady. He’ll reward her with kisses and presents and be as indulgent as possible, only punishing her when absolutely necessary. 

He’s going to treat her so well. That’s what his beautiful girl deserves.


	2. Chapter 2

Eventually Derek leaves again, tying Stiles’ hands to the bed, and comes back with a plate of food. Stiles can see a bagel with cream cheese and salmon, halved strawberries, and some carrot sticks. 

“Here, sweetheart,” Derek says, crawling back into bed with the plate. “I’ll feed you. We need to go slow since we haven’t eaten in a while.” 

Stiles doesn’t fight; he’s too hungry. Derek feeds everything to him bite by bite. When Stiles gets cream cheese on his face Derek laughs and cleans it for him, eyes shining with happiness. Stiles is still hungry when all the food is gone, but Derek’s not done yet. He presents Stiles with a heart-shaped box of chocolates. “I had to get my girl something special for her first day awake,” he says proudly. 

Stiles eats the first two chocolates Derek picks for him without really tasting them, his mind starting to form a little plan. Derek puts the lid back on the box. “That’s enough for today. I wouldn’t want you to worry about your figure.” 

“Can’t I feed one to you?” Stiles blurts. 

Derek looks at him, an eyebrow raised suspiciously. “Why?” 

“I—I thought you might like that.” Stiles knows his cheeks are flaming bright red, but Derek seems to find it endearing. He coolly observes Stiles for another moment, then nods with a slight smile. 

“All right, babe. I’ll trust you. Don’t do anything silly, please.” 

He unties Stiles’ hands and hands him the box of chocolates, eyebrow still raised as if in challenge. Stiles selects a chocolate at random and hesitantly puts it up to Derek’s lips. Derek opens his mouth, and, as Stiles places the chocolate inside, gently nips down on Stiles’ finger. He sucks it for a moment before letting go and swallowing the candy. 

“Delicious,” he says. “Give me another one.” 

Stiles picks up another one and repeats the process. This time Derek grabs his hand before it can withdraw, and after he’s done eating he kisses the pad of each of Stiles’ fingers. 

“Thank you, Gemma. That was very nice.” 

Stiles doesn’t fight as Derek reties his hands. He’s thinking, hard, about what his next move should be. Derek obviously desperately wants this little fantasy to be real. If Stiles can play along and convince Derek he’s really Derek’s “girl,” maybe Derek will start to get lax with the restraints. All Stiles needs is an opportunity to run. 

“Babe,” Derek says, pulling him out of his thoughts. “It’s time for your shot.” 

“My…?” Stiles remembers what Derek had said when he first woke up and feels queasy. “W-will it make me sleep? I’m not sleepy, Derek.” 

“No, silly girl, it doesn’t make you sleep. It’s to help you.” Derek playfully flicks his nose. “Don’t give me that look. You take it every day, doctor’s orders. I’ll go grab it.” 

He leaves the room again and comes back with a wicked-looking syringe and what looks like an entire medical kit. “Your injections are labeled for each day of the week, since the amount in them has to vary,” he explains when he sees Stiles’ dubious look. “I wanted to give you a full dose every day, but the doctor said that wouldn’t be safe.” He rolls his eyes, as if to say the doctor is being unreasonable. “But I wanted us to get on a schedule, so some of these are placebos, and some of them are real. We’ll just pretend they’re all real, okay?” He gives Stiles a quick, reassuring kiss. “Don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure it doesn’t hurt.” 

He hikes up the nightgown and tilts Stiles’ right leg. Stiles is breathing heavily, on the edge of panic, and Derek hushes him. “So quick,” he promises, before sinking the needle into Stiles’ thigh. Stiles can see his fingers pressing down against the injection site carefully, and it almost looks like black lines are suddenly rippling up his arm. The injection barely hurts, but Stiles feels his head spinning. He isn’t sure if it’s whatever toxic cocktail is in there or just the fear of feeling it inside of him. 

“There. All done, see?” Derek rolls the nightgown back down and kisses Stiles quickly. “Don’t cry, pretty girl. I’m right here with you. Shh, you’re just fine.” 

The comforting words only make the tears in Stiles’ eyes come down his cheeks faster. “I want to go home,” he hears himself choke out. 

“You are home. You’re home with me. It’s so wonderful to have you here.” Derek spends a few more moments comforting him, then settles back, smiling. “I know what will make my girl feel much better.” 

He grabs a remote off the bedside table and turns on the television mounted in the corner of the room. Some old movie starts playing, all black and white and smoldering heroes and pretty damsels. Derek settles back with Stiles in his arms, hands rubbing soothingly up and down Stiles’ arms. “You’re prettier,” he whispers in Stiles’ ear when the heroine is first introduced. When the main characters share their first kiss, he captures Stiles’ mouth with his own, forcing in his tongue again. Stiles can feel his erection, but he doesn’t do anything more. 

Later, he helps Stiles to the bathroom again and hand-feeds him some more food. He selects a new nightgown once the sun goes down and helps Stiles dress, then gets him back into bed. This time he doesn’t tie Stiles’ hands to the bed, but uses the rope to tie Stiles’ wrist to his own. He gets under the covers with Stiles and spoons him, draping a hand over his stomach. 

“You were such a good girl today,” he whispers in Stiles’ ear before giving him a goodnight kiss. His breathing is deep and even as he sleeps and, as much as Stiles tries to fight it, it eventually lulls him into sleep too. 

X 

The next morning he continues to try to be obedient. Derek seems delighted with him, constantly kissing him and praising him. He keeps Stiles’ hands tied, though, no matter how much Stiles complains that they hurt. 

After lunch, Derek takes him into the bathroom and finally takes the corset off. “I thought we could shower together,” he says. His tone is casual, but Stiles feels a sort of tenseness in his body, as if he’s waiting to see what Stiles will do. 

Stiles swallows hugely. It scares him, but it’s definitely in his best interest to try and make Derek feel like he can be trusted. “I’d like that,” he whispers. 

“That’s my girl.” Derek takes off his own clothes. Stiles stares down at his cock, and when Derek catches him looking he laughs. “Don’t you try to seduce me, babe. We’re not having our first time crammed into the shower.” 

Even so, his hand cups Stiles’ ass longingly before he helps Stiles into the shower. As the water pours over them, Stiles knows this is the best opportunity he’s had so far to make an escape—it would be fairly easy to shove Derek so he slips, then make a run for it. But he hesitates, knowing that if he screws this up he’s going to be in huge trouble. 

It’s better to wait, he decides. Surely Derek will leave the house at some point. If Stiles can gain his trust enough that he isn’t tied up, he can make a run for it then. 

Derek is obviously pleased with him for not doing anything stupid. He washes Stiles with a loofah, rubbing some sort of flowery gel over him. When he shampoos Stiles' hair he covers his eyes with his hand, so they won’t sting. Then he presses a bar of soap into Stiles’ hands. “Can you get my back, babe?” 

Stiles nods and shyly soaps Derek up. He hesitates, then dares to press a kiss to Derek’s back, right up near his neck. Derek freezes for a second, then turns and gives Stiles a kiss back, grabbing him passionately and kissing his mouth while water cascades over them both. 

The next day Derek seems a little distracted. “Hey,” he says softly after they eat lunch and watch another movie. “I need to go to the store. We’re almost out of fruit and cheese. I’ll be as quick as possible, okay? Do you want anything special?” 

Stiles shakes his head, heart beating a little faster. He hopes against hope that Derek won’t tie his hands, but it’s no good. Derek pulls out the rope. 

“Can’t you just lock the door or something?” Stiles says plaintively. “You’ll be gone for a long time. I’ll lose circulation.” 

“No, you won’t, Gemma. I’ll make it loose. Don’t pout.” Derek kisses him and ties him up. “We’ll watch another movie as soon as I get home, okay?” 

As soon as he’s gone, Stiles starts to tug with all of his might. He yanks until he thinks his wrists will break, then tries to gnaw on the rope to get it to give. He practically breaks his fingers trying to maneuver them out of the rope. Nothing happens. 

“Come on!” he yells into the air. “Fuck, fuck, _fuck!_ ” He can feel tears rolling down his cheeks. This isn’t fair. This is the only chance he gets. He’s been so good, meekly obeying Derek to gain his trust, keeping his thoughts away from what his friends and family must be thinking right now. 

What if Derek _never_ lets up? What if he plans to keep Stiles like this, treating him like he’s beloved while always keeping him restrained? 

Finally Stiles gives up. He lets the awful thoughts come flooding over him, imagining each terrible thing Derek might do to him, picturing the search parties that must be fruitlessly calling his name right now. He’s trapped here. He’s _trapped_ , he’s _trapped_ … 

When Derek walks into the room an hour later, that’s where he finds Stiles, in a weeping heap on the bed. “Gemma!” He rushes over, lifting Stiles up, deftly undoing the rope and slipping it into his pocket. “What happened, sweetheart? What can I do?” 

His hands are so soft, his embrace so warm. Stiles doesn’t want him to know that Stiles is crying with frustration because he can’t get free. He has to stick with the plan, so he’ll have a better chance next time. “M-missed you,” he hiccups. 

“Oh, baby, I missed you too. Shh, it’s all right. You know I’ll always come back, don’t you? I would never leave you. I love you, Gemma, I love you so much.” 

He comforts Stiles for a long time, wiping his tears and kissing him gently. Stiles cries himself out and finally just sniffles pathetically in Derek’s arms, feeling exhaustion creep through him. 

“There we go,” Derek murmurs after about an hour has passed. “All better. Give me a smile, sweet girl.” 

Stiles half-heartedly smiles. His mind is starting to sluggishly move again. Derek seems to believe him, that he was crying just because he wanted Derek back. That means Stiles’ plan is working. If he can keep it going… 

“I’m sorry,” he sniffles. “I’m being silly.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, it’s okay. You’re allowed to cry. That’s why I’m here, to make you feel better.” 

“I just…I didn’t realize I needed you so much until you left. I know I’ve been difficult for the past few days. I was wrong. I…I love you, Derek.” 

He keeps his eyes down for another moment. He expects Derek to be smiling when he finally glances up shyly, but what he sees instead shocks him. Derek is completely rigid, staring at Stiles with an expression of such deep, frozen fury that Stiles feels like he’s about to be turned to stone. 

He’s seen Derek angry before, or at least thought he had, but this is an entirely new level. Every synapse screams at him to bolt, like he’s a bunny locked in the gaze of a mountain lion. 

“I don’t believe you,” Derek says coldly. 

Stiles’ mouth opens and closes weakly. “I...I…” 

“Do you think I’m _stupid?_ ” One hand shoots out and grips Stiles by the upper arm so hard he gasps. “Do you really think you can lie to me?” 

Stiles knows better to protest and keep up the façade. “I’m sorry,” he wheezes. 

Derek shakes his head. His lips are white with fury. “You don’t _ever_ lie to me about that. You want to have your little secrets? Fine. You can keep them. But you _don’t lie about that_. You know what happens when someone lies about being in love, and the other person believes it? People _die_. I let it happen once before and it will _never happen again_.” 

Stiles hears his breath coming in strangled, whistling gasps. Derek is staring directly into his eyes so intently that Stiles can’t bring himself to look away. “I put my faith in you. I _trusted_ you. And you just betrayed that.” 

_“I’m sorry!”_ Stiles stops trying to fight back tears and just lets them come, hoping they’ll soften Derek. For a moment he sees Derek’s head tilt, as if he’s reconsidering his anger, but then he grows cold again. 

“You will be. Get up.” 

He stands, tugging Stiles hard by the arm. Stiles is swept along with him helplessly, frantically trying to get his feet under him. Derek leads him out of the room to the hallway for the very first time and Stiles panics, Derek’s words playing back in his head. _People die._ Is Derek going to… 

“Derek!” he screams, trying to struggle against the larger man. “I’m sorry! _I’m sorry!_ Please stop!” 

Derek doesn’t even look at him. He keeps marching forward, lips pressed into a tight line. Stiles continues to plead him with him, sobbing so hard his legs give out and Derek has to hoist him under the arms to drag him. He kicks open a door at the end of the hallway and forces Stiles inside. 

It’s a plain room, bare except for a bed with a cast-iron frame. The mattress has been removed. Derek turns Stiles, locking him in a tight embrace so they’re both facing the bed. 

“I used to sleep here,” Derek snarls into his ear. “I brought a girl in here once. I wanted to share my bed with her. She had told me she loved me, but _she lied_. Look at what her lies did.” He forces Stiles’ head up. “ _Look!_ ” 

It takes Stiles a moment to understand, but then he gets it: the room has been burned. The walls are licked with black all the way up to the ceiling, and the floors are scorched and crumbling under Stiles’ feet. He thinks of the fresh-paint smell of the room he’s been kept in. This house has been through a terrible fire. Derek had renovated parts of it, but not this room. 

“I let her into my bed,” Derek hisses in Stiles’ ear. “And this is what she did. She took my _family_. I will _never_ share my bed again with someone I can’t trust.” He drags Stiles forward towards the bed. “You want to be like her? You can sleep in the same bed she did. You won’t share mine again until you’ve learned your lesson.” 

He pulls the rope he used to tie Stiles’ hands to the headboard out of his pocket and forces Stiles into the middle of the bedframe. As Stiles continues to sob he ties Stiles’ hands together and drags them up to the very top of the bedframe, so he’s unable to kneel and hangs weakly by his arms. Derek pauses before finishing the knot. He extends a long piece of rope and there’s a sudden glint of silver at his hand. Stiles blinks, and the piece of rope falls into Derek’s waiting hand. Had Derek been concealing a knife somewhere? 

Derek uses the extra piece of rope to tie Stiles’ ankles together. “There,” he says coldly. “I’ll see you in the morning.” 

“No,” Stiles whimpers. His face is a mess and he rubs it helplessly against his shoulder, unable to wipe it off. “Derek, please.” 

Derek doesn’t answer. He turns his back and stalks from the room, slamming the door behind him. 

There’s no source of light in the room except a single smeared window, and the sun sets less than an hour after Derek leaves. Stiles tries to stand for as long as he can, but eventually his knees buckle and he hangs by the arms, feet dragging against the ground. 

Sweat trickles down his back into the corset, burning against his skin. Every movement makes it feel like his arms are about to be ripped out of their sockets. He tries to breathe, but the corset seems to tighten around him. Gray spots dance at his vision as he takes shallow sips of air. 

Sleep never fully rescues him, but he dozes in and out, constantly coming back with a jolt to pain and fear. He calls out for Derek a few times, the word muffled by tears, but no one comes. By the time grayish light finally comes in through the window Stiles feels almost subhuman. 

He doesn’t realizes when Derek comes back into the room, and starts awake when he feels a hand on his back. Derek unties his arms from the bedframe, then lifts Stiles into his arms. 

“Gemma,” he says softly. “Good morning.” 

Stiles dimly notes that it’s the first time Derek has used that name since he got angry. He moans with pain as Derek jostles him and Derek hushes him, rubbing his hands up and down Stiles’ arms, the pain fading wherever he touches. 

“Shh. It’s all right. I’m here.” 

“Hurts,” Stiles wheezes. 

“I know, I know. I’ll take care of it. My poor girl.” Derek carries him from the room. His hand is so warm and soothing, literally taking the pain everywhere it travels. 

“Don’t put me back there,” Stiles whispers, barely aware of what he’s even saying. “Please, please don’t make go back.” 

“I don’t want to ever go back there either, Gemma. But it isn’t my decision. It’s yours.” Derek shoulders open the door to the main bedroom. It’s such a relief to be back in a room with color and life. Stiles feels tears sliding down as cheeks again and Derek brushes them away. 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles says, voice breaking. “I’m sorry about what I said. I shouldn’t have said it. I didn’t mean to—” 

Derek silences him with a gentle kiss. “I forgive you, sweetheart. It’s all right. You’ll say it again someday. But next time, it won’t be a lie.” He carries Stiles into the bathroom and begins to fill the bath. He removes Stiles’ corset nimbly, then shucks off his own clothes before climbing into the bath with Stiles. Stiles can feel his cock pressed against his back, but he doesn’t have the energy to freak out. 

The water is the perfect temperature, and Derek keeps stroking his arms and shoulders to make the pain go away, and Stiles dozes off right there on Derek’s chest. He naps, dimly aware that Derek is wiping his face and rubbing shampoo into his hair with hands so gentle Stiles could cry. He doesn’t fully wake up until the water has gone cold and Derek is maneuvering him out of the bathtub, wrapping him quickly in a fluffy pink towel so he isn’t chilled. 

“Now,” he says brightly. “Let’s get you dressed and back into bed. You’re just going to take it easy today. If you show me that pretty smile I love so much I’ll spend the day in bed with you, so we won’t even need to tie your poor hands again.” 

Stiles doesn’t want to do it, but Derek is waiting expectantly, so he forces the corners of his mouth up. Derek kisses him, then towels off his hair and picks up the corset. 

“No, Derek,” Stiles protests. 

“You wear it every day. No arguments.” 

“I’m too sore.” 

“And whose fault is that?” 

“Yours!” It burst out of him in a sudden flash of fury. Derek pretending like last night didn’t even happen makes him want to scream. “ _You_ hurt me, Derek!” 

Derek shakes his head. “I would never hurt my girl. I’ll always protect you and take care of you. It’s my job as your mate. Just like your job as mine is to be a good, trustworthy girl for me. Understand?” He pulls the corset around Stiles and quickly starts to do up the laces. He’s already placed a cotton nightgown and short chenille robe on the hook by the door and when the corset is tightly laced he grabs the clothes. “Arms up.” 

When he’s finished Stiles rises sullenly and waits for Derek to take him back into the bedroom. Derek chuckles. “Now, I know my girl wouldn’t dare start the day without her face on. Hold still.” He applies Stiles’ lipstick and mascara, adding concealer to hide the circles under his eyes. “Pretty as a picture,” he praises. “Now, back to bed.” 

For the rest of the day Derek is right there next to him, only leaving for a few minutes so he can fetch Stiles water or tea or slices of salmon or cheese or chocolates. He stays with Stiles under the covers, hands always rubbing a soothing circle somewhere on his body. He tells Stiles stories, reads to him from fashion magazines, and suggests plans to go out deep into the woods where there’s a pretty little brook Stiles will love, when Stiles is feeling a “bit stronger.” His actions don’t feel apologetic, only comforting, as if Stiles has been the victim of some random accident and now Derek just wants to help him recover. 

Eventually Derek’s hand slips onto Stiles’ leg. He strokes his inner thigh with his thumb, making Stiles shiver with the sudden sensation. 

“Derek—Derek, stop.” 

“Why, sweetheart? It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“N-no.” It’s obviously a lie, but Derek doesn’t get angry, only laughs. 

“I like to make my girl feel good. Besides, you’re so damn sexy, I can barely help myself.” He squeezes Stiles’ thigh and leans over to kiss him. Stiles stays tense under the hand is finally removed with a little pat. 

“Time for your shot.” 

“Can’t I skip it today? Since we’re resting?” Stiles knows it’s stupid to plead. Derek never gives in. 

“It helps keep you calm, babe. Hold still.” Derek goes to fetch the syringe and pushes up the nightgown to expose the veins in Stiles’ thigh. Stiles looks away as Derek injects him, feeling his eyes water at the sting. 

“Good girl,” Derek says. His eyes slide up to meet Stiles’, and Stiles sees a challenge there. “You are my good girl, aren’t you, Gemma?” 

Stiles nods silently. 

“Say it.” His voice is quiet and even, but Stiles knows he can’t disobey. 

“I’m your good girl, Derek.” His voice cracks, but before he can cry Derek is there, kissing him so deeply Stiles can barely even think. 

X 

After the ugliness Derek works hard to make sure Gemma knows he’s not angry. He forgives and forgets; that’s important in a relationship. 

It just frustrates him that she’s being so resistant. Derek isn’t an idiot; he knows he’s attractive, and an alpha, and hardly someone that a girl would scoff at. He’s offering her so much, and asking for relatively little in return. All she has to do is give up her old life, where she never really fit. Why is that so hard? 

Of course, he reasons, it must be hard for her to make that sacrifice without knowing exactly what she’s getting in return. They’re currently abstaining from an important part of a relationship, he knows— he must be hard for her to only have to guess if they’re compatible sexually. 

Well, Derek can take care of that. 

He’s already purchased several items for when their relationship goes to the next level and locked them in the top drawer of his dresser. Two days after Gemma’s lie, when he’s sure she’s healed completely, he finally unlocks it and takes something out. He puts it in a box and wraps it up in pretty pink paper. 

“Gemma,” he says gently once she’s awake and washed and ready to start the day. “I have a present for you.” 

“What?” 

“Here.” He holds out the box to her. “Open it.” 

She does—he chuckles at how she’s careful with the paper and folds it when she’s done; his father used to do the same thing. Her mouth falls open when she sees what’s inside. “Oh—” 

“Take them out.” Derek is almost bouncing with excitement. Gemma lifts out a white lace pair of panties with a matching bralette. 

“I…I don’t know if they’ll fit me.” 

“Of course they will, you know I know your size.” Derek hesitates. “Should we put them on? I would love to see you in them.” 

Gemma looks a little sick but after a moment she nods. 

“Go into the bathroom and get dressed. We’ll have a little fashion show.” 

“The corset—” 

“We can leave it on.” Derek is really getting tired of how much Gemma fights her corset. She should be proud of how it makes her look. 

She takes a long time in the bathroom, but finally she steps out. Her head is down shyly, but the sexual power she radiates right now is overwhelming. 

“Jesus,” Derek whispers. “You look amazing, baby. Come here.” 

She drags her feet a little but comes over to stand between Derek’s legs. Derek runs a finger over the bralette, loving the way he can feel her skin beneath the lace. The estrogen shots have made her more sensitive here, he thinks—he can feel her shivering, and her nipple pebbles up under his touch. 

“So beautiful. Aren’t you?” Derek kisses her nipple through the bra, letting his teeth come out a little for a bit of pain. He loves the way she gasps with it. Someday he just wants to _torture_ her in bed, using his teeth everywhere she’s most sensitive, nipping and suckling until she’s covered in marks and weeping for more. 

He puts his hand between her legs, rubbing at the lace. She was smart enough to make sure everything unsightly was tucked away and he can almost imagine that she’s completely normal there— wet and warm and waiting for him to make her come. 

He grabs her and flips her onto the bed. She cries out with surprise. “Derek—Derek, no!” 

“Shh.” He drags his nose over her belly, down to the edge of the panties, heady with the scent of her. Her hands are pushing at him, so he grabs them, pushing them up towards the headboard. It’s a little annoying to have to tie her up again, but at least this way she’ll stay still. She doesn’t need to do anything, anyway. This is all about her pleasure, not Derek’s. 

But God, Derek _does_ take pleasure in this. She smells so good, after all these days sleeping in Derek’s bed and showering with him. She smells like _his_. He wishes he could show her off, take her around on his arm so everyone can see his perfect mate. 

He kisses down her chest and belly, then spreads her legs. He puts his lips right where her scent is the deepest and sucks, tasting her through the lace. Her protests turn to breathy gasps and he tastes her wetness, the scent of her arousal flooding him and strengthening his own. He continues to kiss her, finding her fat wet clit and suckling at it mercilessly. 

He wants to howl with success when she comes, and he keeps kissing her as she shudders her orgasm out. When she’s finally finished he kisses her mouth, wanting her to taste the pleasure he made her feel on his lips. 

“See?” he whispers to her, curling around her body and watching with satisfaction as her eyelids flutter and her mouth hangs open. She’s sex-drunk and weak with her orgasm, like a perfect little doll for Derek to take care of. “You _are_ my girl.” 

She whimpers, too spent to make a response. Derek unties her hands and holds her tight, feeling as though a deep need inside of him has finally been sated. Today he made her come, and soon she’ll return the favor. And then, very soon now, he’ll take his pleasure inside of her, filling her up with his come, ensuring that she’ll be his forever.


	3. Chapter 3

Derek knows that the full moon is approaching, and that might be a problem. He doesn’t _have_ to shift when the moon is full, but the pull of the wolf is much stronger, and since he hasn’t shifted in a long time it’s going to be hard to ignore. 

Still, he hates the idea of leaving poor Gemma alone all night while he’s off running around the woods. It makes him wish she was a werewolf too, so they could run together…but he would never put her at the risk of dying with the bite. 

The day before the full moon he’s in bed with her, lost in thought. He’ll need to tie her hands while he’s out, but he knows that would be terribly uncomfortable for her. Maybe he should drug her again. She won’t like that, but it’s a necessary evil. 

God, it would be so nice if she could just give in and stop fighting this. If he could just come back from his run, slip into bed with his girl, get out any leftover aggression with a good hard fuck… 

“Derek?” Gemma says hesitantly. “Y-you’re _growling_.” 

He realizes that he is and stops sheepishly. It’s the proximity to the full moon; he does it without even noticing. “Sorry, babe. Just thinking.” 

“About what?” 

“Nothing you need to worry about.” 

“You can tell me,” she says a little plaintively. “I want to _know_.” 

He finds it adorable when she gets indignant. “Maybe I’m thinking about what present I should get you next,” he teases, drawing his finger over her smooth, slim arm. “Or I’m thinking about putting you back in those gorgeous panties and having some fun with you tonight.” 

She shivers a little at that, but he hears her heart race a little faster and knows she’s thinking about it too. She doesn’t fight him anymore when he touches her thighs—sometimes she shifts a little, as if she’s hoping he’ll start to stroke her clit. He wouldn’t mind tasting her again, but he doesn’t want to rush things. 

“You’re growling again,” she whispers. 

“I think that’s purring, babe.” He laughs at himself. It’s been a long time since he’s found himself purring. He’s just so _content_ these days. He’s never been much of a talker, so just lying in bed with his girl, knowing she’s safe there in his arms, is everything ne needs. “You’ve got me all feral,” he murmurs, nipping a little at her ear. 

“Oh, right,” she mutters. “The werewolf thing.” 

He doesn’t like the tone of her voice when she says that, but he decides to let it go. “Getting close to bedtime,” he says instead, sitting up. “I’m going to go shave. Why don’t you start your yoga?” 

He had felt a little badly that Gemma’s been cooped up in bed, barely even able to stretch. He doesn’t want her unable to exercise and losing that gorgeous figure. So he’d purchased a yoga mat and DVD for her. It allows her to get a little exercise, helps keep her calm, and, as a bonus, Derek gets to watch as she contorts her body into all those beautiful shapes. 

Like all his gifts she’d been a little reluctant at first, but after two days of Derek’s insistence she goes ahead and does a fifteen-minute video exercise before bed. 

Derek shaves quickly and returns to the room to see Gemma on her mat, stretching into downward-dog. She’s wearing the yoga pants and tank top Derek had also purchased for her, with the corset still on underneath. She looks so perfect. 

The wolf side of him, so dominant right now, is urging him to grab her and mate with her, pumping into her for hours until he’s satisfied. But he can’t do that right now. He pinches himself a little through his pants and settles back on the bed to watch her. 

She’s a little pink in the cheeks, either from the exercise or from Derek’s appreciative eyes on her. When she finishes she changes into a nightgown, angling away from Derek as she does so. “Hey now,” Derek says lazily. “You know I like to watch you.” 

She just barely turns, giving Derek only the tiniest peek of her before the nightgown has covered her. It irritates him, especially that more feral part of him that’s urging him to claim and dominate. 

She won’t be like this forever. That’s the only way he can comfort himself. Soon she’ll be his perfect girl. 

As they sleep that night Derek has dark dreams, full of blood and sex and teeth and claws. In the dream he is tearing through the woods, killing anything that gets into his path, taking what he wants and threatened by nothing. He is an alpha. He is _the_ alpha, the only thing in the forest to be feared. And then he comes back to his den, to the soft, warm body waiting for him… 

“Derek? Derek!” 

He snarls. In his dream he pins his mate down, slamming into her. 

“Derek, stop!” 

His eyes open. He’s in bed with Gemma. His arms are locked around her, holding her so tight. His hips are grinding against her, humping into her like an animal rutting against a pillow. He’s so hard it hurts. 

She’s squirming under him, and it aggravates him. He’s not hurting her, really. He’ll make her feel good when he’s done. Right now all he can think about is getting relief. 

“Derek!” she cries again. One of her hands flies free and she smacks him in the face. 

Derek hears himself roar. _How dare she?_ She belongs to the alpha. She should be grateful to be sharing his bed. He yanks on the rope tying their wrists together so hard it snaps off his end, then uses it to tie her to the headboard. He shoves down his sweatpants and begins to jerk himself off over her, tearing her nightgown to ribbons with his claws to expose her creamy skin. He drags the head of his cock over her, pressing it between the laces of her corset, wanting to mark her everywhere. 

She feels so good—warm and soft, shaking under him. When he comes he spatters her lower body. He wants it to dry on her so he leaves her naked and doesn’t bother to pull the covers up when he gets back into bed. She’s shaking, so he takes her back into his arms, rubbing his nose against the crook of her neck until she finally settles. Feeling much more satisfied, Derek goes back to sleep. 

# 

Stiles is starting to suspect that Derek is drugging him or something—somehow making him hallucinate. When Derek woke him up by rutting against him Stiles could have sworn that Derek had sprouted fur and his eyes were _glowing_. It freaked him out massively. Sometimes Derek makes him feel like an animal trapped by a predator—naturally made weaker; helpless under Derek’s control. 

Derek doesn’t apologize the morning after he wakes up Stiles and jerks off on him. Stiles is a little sulky all morning, but Derek seems determined to ignore it. 

He decides they should take a shower together after lunch. Stiles doesn’t argue—he can still feel Derek’s come dried on him and he wants to wash it off. The showers are a little more enjoyable than they used to be. Derek always holds him pretty snug, so he doesn’t feel like he’s going to slip and fall, and he kind of likes the smell of the bodywash and shampoo Derek uses on him. Besides, it’s always nice to feel clean. 

Today, though, he feels on edge being so close to Derek. He can’t stop thinking about how Derek looked and sounded last night. Of course he isn’t _really_ a werewolf. But he’s clearly convinced himself that he is, and does a damn good job pretending. 

Derek seems to realize that Stiles is a little bit more agitated than normal. When they get out of the shower and he wraps a towel around Stiles’ front he takes a moment to smooth Stiles’ wet hair back from his face so it won’t drip into his eyes, softly stroking Stiles’ cheek with his thumb. “This is starting to grow out beautifully,” he says softly. “Maybe we should put some highlights in it. A few streaks of gold would look so pretty. What do you think?” 

“Whatever,” Stiles mutters. 

“It’s not _whatever_ , babe. I want my girl to look as beautiful as she can. Your hair will be long enough soon that you can wear it in a braid, or a bun, or curls…wouldn’t some highlights be nice?” 

Stiles snaps. “No, they wouldn’t! I don’t want my hair long! I’m a man, Derek! _A man! Look at me!_ ” He stops short, breathing heavily, with tears in his eyes. He knows it’s dumb to challenge Derek, but he _just can’t help it_. Derek is killing him. 

Derek stares at him for a minute. His eyes are a little flat, that warmth affection he normally shows completely gone. “Okay,” he says softly after a moment. “Let’s look at you.” 

He turns Stiles towards the mirror and tugs the towel away, so Stiles is standing there naked. “We’ll start here,” Derek says coldly, bringing his hand up to Stiles’ chest. “I see some nice puffy tits. Am I wrong?” He tugs Stiles’ nipple cruelly, making him gasp. Stiles knows that he _does_ look a little different there than he used to; his nipples are enlarged and darker than they should be. But that’s not…that doesn’t mean anything. 

“I know I’m a man,” Derek continues in that measured voice. “But I don’t have these, do I?” He lets his own towel drop and looks down at his chest. “No, I don’t. And let’s see…I have all this hair here.” He takes Stiles’ hand and drags it down his chest. “That’s how a man should be. But you…so smooth and soft. No hair on your chest, your face, your legs…” He rubs a proprietary hand over Stiles’ body.” 

“Th-that’s… _you_ did that,” Stiles gasps, but Derek ignores him. 

“Oh, and look at this.” He squeezes Stiles’ thigh, his hand practically able to wrap around the whole thing. “Feel, Gemma. You can tell we’re different here.” He puts Stiles’ hand on his thigh. Stiles can feel the muscle, thick and powerful under his shaking palm. “You’re so nice and slim compared to me. Such a pretty girl, aren’t you?” 

Stiles shakes his head desperately. Derek sighs. “You still can’t see the difference?” His gaze in the mirror falls to the cock hanging limply between Stiles’ legs, small and shriveled-looking. Stiles is sure it’s just power of suggestion or something, but it looks abnormally tiny to him all of a sudden. “Is this what’s confusing you, Gemma? Don’t be so silly. We’re completely different there, too.” 

“No,” Stiles whispers. He knows he’s being stupid. He should just smile and nod and play along until he has an opportunity to run. But something about Derek’s words scare him. He has to say _something_ , or it’s like they become true. 

“No?” Derek repeats. His hand suddenly seizes between Stiles’ legs, mercilessly grasping at him. “I see a sweet girl’s clit here. Look how much it likes to be touched. I know it can squirt, we’ve learned that already.” His thumb presses against the head and Stiles hears himself moan. “No,” Derek says again. “It doesn’t want to do any work itself. It just wants to be petted and sucked so it can feel good. That’s a clit, baby girl. Not a cock.” 

His hand moves back, then, and grabs one of Stiles’ balls. “And what, these _pebbles?_ You think they make you a man, Gemma? You must be so confused about what a real man looks like. Maybe you haven’t been looking closely enough.” 

He shoves Stiles down onto his knees and grabs his head, roughly forcing it into Derek’s crotch. “You see this, Gemma? This is a real man. It’s an _insult_ to say we’re the same. You should apologize.” 

Stiles can barely think. He’s pressed right up against Derek’s cock, breathing in the musky scent of him. Derek _is_ big, bigger than any man Stiles has ever seen. His balls are huge and heavy and Stiles swallows hard, thinking of the size of the load Derek released on him last night. 

Derek’s hand tightens in Stiles’ hair. “You heard me, Gemma. Apologize.” 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles chokes. 

“No, that’s no way to do it. Apologize to what you just insulted. I want you to worship my cock and balls until you understand that you don’t have _anything_ like them. I’ll tell you when you’re done.” 

Stiles almost sobs, but he knows Derek won’t give in. He presses his lips to Derek’s cock, hesitantly kissing up and down his shaft. His nose bumps against Derek’s sensitive skin and he feels Derek’s grip tighten even more. 

“Don’t forget my balls. They work hard for you. Kiss them.” 

Stiles does. He swears it’s like they’re growing in size, fattening up under his lips. 

“That’s an alpha sack, Gemma. Big breeder balls. You don’t know how lucky you are that you belong to them. You belong to my balls, and my cock, and my hands, and my mouth. You belong to me. The sooner you see that as a privilege and not a punishment, the better off you’ll be.” 

Stiles continues to move his head, kissing Derek everywhere, rubbing his nose and cheeks against Derek’s cock and balls. It’s like his mind goes blank, forcing out every thought and only focusing on doing what he has to do. He keeps expecting Derek to shove himself into Stiles’ mouth, coming and putting an end to this, but he never does. 

“There,” Derek says after a while. “Are you finished, Gemma?” 

Stiles stares up at him uncomprehendingly. “I…I don’t…” 

“Do you understand the different between us now?” 

“Yes, Derek. Yes.” 

“Then say it.” 

Stiles squeezes his eyes shut. He can’t. He _won’t._

“Say it, Gemma. Or stay down there until you can.” Derek waits. “Let me help you. Do you have a cock like me, Gemma?” 

_Please, no._ Derek doesn’t budge, just keeps one hand tightly knotted in Stiles’ hair. Stiles moans, seeing no other option. “N-no, Derek. I have a c-c-clit.” 

“So are you a man like me, Gemma?” 

“No, Derek.” 

“What does that make you, then?” 

Stiles wants to cry, but no tears come. “I’m a girl, Derek. I’m your girl.” 

“Good,” Derek says coldly. “Now wrap those pretty girl’s lips around my cock and swallow the load these big alpha balls make for you.” 

Stiles does. He bobs his head obediently, taking Derek deep into his throat. At least Derek doesn’t make him wait long, coming so quickly that Stiles isn’t prepared. He chokes, barely able to swallow. 

He feels completely spent when it’s finally over. Derek has to lift him from the ground, wrapping him up in an embrace that feels almost loving. “Now,” he says gently. “Am I going to hear any more nonsense about being a man?” 

“No, Derek.” 

“Good. I don’t want this to be hard on you, sweetheart. If your current anatomy is too confusing for you, I can have the doctor here tomorrow to take care of it. Understand?” 

The words fill Stiles with so much horror that he sways in Derek’s grip, nearly blacking out with fear. “No,” he croaks. “Please, no.” 

“Are you sure? He would be more than happy to do it for me. Once it’s over you’ll feel so much better.” 

Stiles shakes his head desperately. He presses himself against Derek, rubbing his cheek plaintively against Derek’s warm chest. “I…I want to show you I can be a good girl even with…all of that, Derek. We don’t need to call the doctor. I promise I can be good.” 

“All right, sweetheart. If you change your mind, tell me and I’ll call him right away.” Derek kisses him and replaces the towel, pausing to cup Stiles’ cheek in his hand. “I don’t like that you make me do this,” he says softly. “But you have to learn to submit, or things will be very difficult for us both.” 

Stiles tries as hard as possible to be good for the rest of the day. He does his yoga when Derek asks; eats everything Derek offers him; asks Derek for his opinion on what clothes Stiles should wear; shyly accepts Derek’s every kiss and caress. He’s not sure if Derek’s buying it or not. He goes on acting like this morning never happened, just like he does every time there’s _unpleasantness_ between them. 

When night falls, though, he doesn’t tie their wrists together like he normally does. Instead he ties Stiles to the headboard. Stiles bites his lips, wanting to complain but afraid of making Derek angry. 

“I know, babe,” Derek murmurs, seeing his expression. “Just for tonight, I promise.” 

It’s hard to get comfortable with his hands tied like this. Stiles tosses for a little while, until Derek sighs and wraps his arms around his waist to hold him still. Stiles shuts his eyes and tries to breathe deeply, forcing himself into sleep. 

He’s just started to drift off when Derek suddenly shifts away from him, letting go of his waist and climbing out of bed. Stiles makes an involuntary sound at the sudden cold. “I have to go out, honey,” Derek whispers. “I’ll be back soon.” 

Stiles keeps his eyes closed and his breathing even. Derek slips from the room without another word. The minutes tick by, carefully counted by Stiles. When he reaches ten minutes and Derek hasn’t returned, he opens his eyes and sits up. 

Derek has been using the same rope to tie Stiles ever since he first took him. It’s started to become a little frayed, worn down by Stiles’ constant yanking. He puts all of his strength into it, pulling until he thinks his own wrists might snap off. 

Then, like a miracle, it happens. The rope breaks away from the headboard. Stiles is free. 

For a moment he can only sit there, staring at the sight. Then he moves. He uses the edge of the bed’s box spring to free his wrists from the ropes’ loops, then changes from the nightgown into the yoga clothes Derek had bought for him and a pair of Derek’s sneakers. As he works he keeps a careful ear out, but the house is silent. 

The bedroom door isn’t locked, but opens easily into the hallway. It’s difficult to find his way around, but Stiles creeps as softly as possible until he finds the stairs. They squeak a little as he takes them, but nobody comes running. Derek clearly isn’t even in the house anymore. 

When Stiles opens the front door the sight of the night sky almost staggers him. Have there always been so many stars, or are they just more visible out here? He takes a moment just to look at them, and then he faces the woods. 

As far as he can tell there’s really only one clear path—the one Derek drives when he goes into town. Stiles doesn’t see his car sitting outside; he must have taken it when he left. Stiles could follow that road, hopefully into town, but if Derek returns he’ll see Stiles immediately. If Stiles runs into the woods, he runs the risk of getting lost out there. But he knows the Beacon Hills woods. He’s studied Beacon Hills for a long time. It’s always been his nerdy little thing—reading about the town’s history and geography. He’ll find a way out eventually. 

He runs forward, into the thick tree line. It’s hard to see and the branches tear at him, drawing blood on his cheek. He trips once or twice and goes sprawling, twisting his ankle the second time. It hurts so badly that trying to run on it again brings tears to his eyes, but he soldiers on. Then, from what sounds like about a mile away, he hears a howl. It’s deep and wild, obviously a wolf. Stiles hadn’t even thought about there being wolves in the woods. 

What if it can _smell_ him? That’s a thing, right? 

No, that’s idiotic. It’s looking for easy prey; bunnies and squirrels. It has no reason to be hunting him. 

Then the howl comes again. This time, it seems almost angry…and it’s definitely coming closer. 

He starts to run as fast as he can on his rolled ankle. He should try and find water. If he splashes though it, it might confuse the trail. He grabs a branch off of a tree as he runs, something that he can use to try and fight it off with. 

The howls continue, each one sounding angrier. Suddenly it’s so close Stiles can hear the foliage rustling as it runs. One more howl, this time triumphant. 

Then Stiles is being tackled into the ground. He cries out as he hits the earth, feebly putting up his hands to try and defend himself. 

The wolf is huge and black. It sticks its snout in Stiles’ neck, but doesn’t bite him. It huffs at him, then starts to lick his cheek where the branch cut him. 

Stiles doesn’t know what to do. Should he play dead? Try to shove it away? A tear of fear rolls down his cheek and the wolf licks at that too, then looks up to meet Stiles’ gaze. 

Those eyes…Stiles knows those eyes. They look into his steadily, almost challengingly. 

This can’t be real. It’s insane. But Stiles whispers: _“Derek?”_

The wolf shudders and stretches and Derek is pinning him to the ground. Fur recedes from his face and it’s like his bones reshape right before Stiles’ eyes. The sound that comes from his mouth is an obvious, animalistic growl. He sniffs at Stiles for a minute, and then stands, tugging him up easily. 

“Walk,” he growls into Stiles’ ear, but Stiles can’t. He only sways there for a moment, until Derek finally just picks him up and tosses him over his shoulder. Stiles is left staring at the forest floor as Derek drags him back to the house. He feels almost numb. The realization of what he’s just learned pulses through him, again and again. 

Derek is really a werewolf. 

Stiles is _fucked_. 

By the time they arrive Derek seems a bit more like himself. He draws his thumb over the cut on Stiles’ cheek, sighing a little. “You hurt yourself,” he scolds. “Let’s go inside and fix it.” Stiles doesn’t fight. He moves inside numbly, letting Derek propel him up the stairs and into the bathroom. Derek’s cleans the wound, smoothing a pink Band-Aid over it, and then runs bath water. He gets in the tub with Stiles, letting him rest against his chest. 

Stiles is expecting fury and punishment, but when Derek speaks his voice is almost gentle. “You missed me, didn’t you? You went out there to find me.” 

He can’t really believe that. But maybe he’s trying to be kind. Or maybe it’s more than that. Maybe he can’t bear the thought that Stiles really tried to run away. The realization makes a strange feeling spread through Stiles’ chest. He isn’t sure what to call it, but whatever it is has him answering softly: “Yes. I…I got scared and you weren’t there. I was looking for you.” 

“Oh, sweetheart, I’m sorry. You saw why I had to go. It isn’t safe for me to be in the house while I’m shifted. You could have been seriously hurt out there. Next time I’ll be more in control. We can go out together to enjoy it.” Derek kisses the side of his head, then helps him out of the bath. He’s so gentle with Stiles as he helps him get dressed again, like he’s something fragile. When they get back into bed he noses at the back of Stiles’ neck. It makes Stiles shudder, remembering that snout poking into him. 

“It’s all right,” Derek breathes. “I’m here now. You’re safe.” 

Stiles nods. He screws his eyes tight, trying to fall asleep, while Derek’s arms hold him so tightly he knows there’s no way he’ll let go. 

X 

Gemma has no idea how close she came to being seriously injured out there. When Derek scented her, he had almost lost control completely. His wolf had recognized his mate and fear and wildness and blood, and he had torn off without any time for rational thought. 

The only way he had managed to get himself under control was by convincing himself that she wasn’t trying to run. She just was looking for him because she needed him—her protector. The only thing keeping her safe in the big dark woods. Convincing his wolf that that was true was the hardest thing he had ever done, but it was a necessary evil. 

He chose Gemma. He brought her here. He will never, ever hurt her. No matter how much she challenges him, he will stay strong. 

Otherwise he becomes the monster Kate thought he must be. Gemma will never make him lose control. She _is_ his control; the thing that ties him to humanity. 

Yes, he sometimes has to be firm with her. That’s an alpha’s job. If he has to force her to submit sometimes, so be it. He doesn’t regret anything he’s had to do. Every little bit of force and humiliation has been to show her her place—right by the alpha’s side. She’ll thank him for it eventually. 

She’s withdrawn the morning after her little misadventure. She obeys ever command, but she hardly speaks and she won’t look Derek in the eye. He tells himself it’s fine. She went through a traumatizing experience. All he needs to do is be there for her. 

Still, it scares him. The silence after seeing him in wolf form…does he _disgust_ her now? That would kill him. 

Not until they’re eating lunch together does she finally speak without prompting. “Are there…lots of you in Beacon Hills? W-werewolves?” 

He’s surprised by the question, but takes her interest as a good sign. “Not in Beacon Hills, no. Not anymore. But elsewhere, yes. There are thousand of us.” 

“Were you…like, bitten or something?” 

“No, I’m a born werewolf. Lots of us are bitten, though.” 

“Are you going to bite me?” 

“Oh, sweetheart!” Derek pushes his plate away and embraces her tightly. “Is that what has you so upset? No, Gemma, I’m not going to bite you. You’re perfect for me, just like this.” 

“But _why?_ Don’t you want a werewolf? Isn’t that—” 

“No. I don’t want a werewolf. I don’t want anyone but you. This isn’t a trial run, Gemma. I didn’t do all this just to see how it works out. I chose you a long time ago, and never looked back.” 

He can feel her shaking and realizes she’s crying. “Gemma, what is it?” 

She shakes her head. Her hands cover her face in what seems like total despair. “Y-you’re never going to let me go, are you?” she chokes out. 

“No, darling. You’re mine forever now. Sh, that’s enough. You don’t need to cry.” 

“I just don’t understand _why._ Why are you doing this to me?” 

“Because I can,” Derek answers simply. “You saw me out there. I’m the greatest predator in the world. If I wanted to, I could spend my days hunting humans for the sport of it. But instead I live like this—in the shadows. It’s my gift to humanity. All I asked for in exchange was for one person to be by my side for the rest of my life. Someone to satisfy my deepest, most basic need. I don’t think that’s so much to ask, do you?” 

It’s more than he had expected to say, but he feels the truth of the words. He could have gone feral. He could have become the monster Kate expected he was. Instead, he will go on living quietly, never taking the revenge he’s owed. He can do that because he has Gemma here, his perfect girl, ready to be protected and cherished the way a mate should be. 

Gemma keeps him human, and that keeps all humans safe. Choosing her was the best decision he ever made. 

“But why did you take _me?_ I’m not beautiful, I’m not special, I’m _not_ a—” 

“Hey now,” Derek says mildly. “Don’t be so silly.” He pauses, thinking back to the days when he looked for a mate in town. “The first time I ever saw you was at the library. You were in the history section—checking out all those books on the history of Beacon Hills. I thought that was so interesting—someone who actually cared about the history of this town, where my family has lived for generations. The librarian teased you about it, asking if you were planning on running for mayor or something, and you blushed. It was the most beautiful, innocent thing I’d ever seen, and I hadn’t known beauty or innocence for a long time. I just—knew. You were meant to be mine. I know this might not seem fair to you right now, but soon enough you’ll be thanking me. This is for the best. You’ll see.” 

She shakes her head again, a little fainter this time, and falls silent. He holds her, comforting her until she’s finally calm again. 

Hopefully this was something of a breakthrough for her. He knew when he started this that it would take a little time before she was truly his, but he’s starting to get antsy. There’s no way he can go through another full moon unmated. The knowledge that he had a beautiful girl at home, wrapped up in his sheets, had been a torment when he was shifted. Things need to start moving more quickly. 

Luckily, remembering that first day he met her gives him an idea of how to win her over. Later that day, as she’s dutifully doing her yoga upstairs, he makes a quick call to Deaton. The next day, what he’d asked for arrives. 

“Gemma,” he calls, hurrying upstairs with it. “I have a present for you.” 

She looks a little unenthusiastic—she hasn’t liked very many of his presents so far. But when she opens it, he sees her eyes widen with surprise. “A book?” 

“A very special book.” He sits on the bed with her and flips it open. “My family has kept it for generations. Our emissary—that’s someone who assists werewolves—uses it to document all werewolf activity in Beacon Hills. _All_ magical activity, really. It’s the ultimate book on Beacon Hills history, but you won’t find it in a library. I thought you might like it.” 

Her eyes are wide as she flips through the pages. “This is…oh, my god. This goes back _hundreds_ of years.” 

“Werewolves were here before humans. You didn’t know that, did you?” He sees a page with a drawing of a mermaid and grins. “Oh, I remember that story—my great-great grandfather fought off a mermaid infestation a long time ago. Go on, take some time to read it. It’s all yours.” 

She bites her lip adorably. “Derek, that’s…thank you. This is really incredible.” She glances down at the book again, and a smile tugs at her lips. _The_ smile, the one that first enchanted him so much. It’s finally his. He wants to cheer at his success. 

“You’re welcome. Give me a kiss.” 

She does, a little hesitantly. Derek slips his hand down her shirt, finding her nipple hard beneath his fingers. Her shots are really starting to work. He presses down as he brushes over it, making her gasp. Goosebumps break out over her arms. 

“Did that feel good?” Derek whispers. 

She blushes furiously. Derek smells the sudden arousal spiking the air. He wants to touch her again, suck at her through her shirt until she’s writhing for more, but instead he lets go of her and leans back. 

“Read your book. I’ll run some errands.” He pauses. “If you enjoy the book, I know our emissary keeps plenty of other records of Beacon Hills history. I’d be happy to let you look through them.” 

“Really?” 

“Of course. My mate has every right to see our history.” 

“Thank you,” she repeats. “That’s really…thank you.” She kisses him again, unprompted, then looks surprised at herself and blushes. 

“You’re welcome, Gemma. I’ll be downstairs if you need me.” He slips from the room. When the door closes behind him he leans against it, allowing himself one huge grin of triumph. 

Tonight he’ll play with her clit, but he won’t let her come until she asks him nicely to help her little clit squirt. She’ll obey, he knows; his present today has gone a long way with her and she won’t want him to get angry and take it away. 

His mother would be proud of him. _This_ is the way to court a woman—finding out her interests and fulfilling them for her. Soon Gemma will see that Derek is there to give her everything she needs and wants. She’ll really how silly it is to fight him; that she was born to be by his side. 

Setbacks aside, things are progressing very nicely indeed.


	4. Chapter 4

As much as Stiles hates to admit it, the book Derek gave him is kind of amazing. It’s primarily a record of the Hale family, but it’s also a really good resource on the town itself. A lot of the stuff Stiles has always wondered, like when people started expanding the town into the woods and why the original Beacon Hills high school had burned down is all in here. 

He’s lying on his stomach as he reads, enthralled with a story about some creature called a rusalki that wreaked havoc on the town in the early nineteen hundreds. “What are you reading?” Derek asks from across the room, where he’s changing a lightbulb. 

“Rusalki. 1932.” 

“Oh, yeah. It’ll show up again in the eighties.” 

“Really? Hey, have you ever fought anything like this?” 

“Yeah. There was a tree spirit attack my family dealt with when I was little. You’ll see it detailed towards the end.” 

Stiles flips to the back of the book, weirdly eager to see if there are any pictures of Young Derek or something to really tie him to what’s in here. The entry on the rusalki is short, and it’s what’s on the next page that captures his attention. 

_Hunter Attack. Hale Pack decimated by fire._

Stiles’ mouth falls open. He had never asked about Derek’s family. He had sort of figured they had either abandoned him, or he had just made them up. But as he reads the entry he realizes that Derek’s family died _here. In this house._

“Oh.” While Stiles was staring wide-eyed, Derek had finished with the lightbulb and come over to see what he’s looking at. His face is inscrutable. “I should have warned you about that.” 

“Derek…” Stiles flips the page quickly. He feels like he might cry. For some reason it’s hard to hold on to his emotions these days. “I’m so sorry.” 

Derek exhales through his nose and reaches out to gently touch Stiles’ cheek. “It’s okay, sweetheart.” He bends and kisses Stiles’ forehead. “I’m not alone anymore.” 

Stiles swallows down the lump in his throat and looks back down. The next page of the book is still discussing the fire. “Are there still…hunters out there?” 

“There are always hunters, Gemma. But you don’t need to worry. I won’t let anyone hurt you.” 

If hunters did come after Derek, what would happen to Stiles? Would they help him, or kill him too? Stiles shudders. He doesn’t want to think about that. “How did you escape?” 

“I wasn’t there when it happened. The hunters used me. One of them seduced me. I thought she…well. It’s not important. But that’s why I was so lucky to find you like I did. It was very hard for me to even think about trusting someone again for a long time.” Derek looks faraway for a moment, and then he shakes off his thoughts. “Let’s not talk about it anymore.” 

“Yeah. Of course.” Stiles hastily flips back to where he was before. He’s off by a few pages, though, and finds himself staring at a page headed _Werewolf Mating._

There are pictures here. Pictures and drawings and diagrams. Heat rushes to his face so intently he feels like _he’s_ been set on fire. 

In some of the images men with a distinct resemblance to Derek are thrusting into women. Some of the men are snarling, hair on their faces as if they’re starting to shift into wolf form. And one of the pictures…one of the pictures shows an _actual wolf_ on top of a woman. All of the women are throwing back their heads in ecstasy, mouths slack-jawed as if they’re crying out with pleasure and pain. 

“Like what you see?” 

Stiles jumps. He had been so absorbed that he had almost forgotten Derek was even there. Suddenly he’s all too conscious of how _close_ Derek is…his warm breath against Stiles’ neck; his hand hovering just above Stiles’ waist. 

“I…I didn’t…” Stiles is completely at a loss for words. Derek’s eyes are so _intense_ as they stare into Stiles’. It’s like he’s hypnotizing him just like that, gazing into his very soul. 

“Soon you’ll get to experience this,” Derek tells him, reaching down to touch one of the pictures almost reverently. “These are all alphas claiming their mates. Knotting them. Do you know what that means?” 

Stiles shakes his head jerkily. 

“When an alpha takes his mate for the first time, he forms a knot at the base of his cock. It helps him lock into his mate, prevents him from sliding out of her, so he can be sure she gets everything in those breeder balls you’ve been admiring. The knot can last anywhere from fifteen minutes to half an hour. I’ll be inside you all that time.” He taps a diagram on the page showing the size of the knot—bigger than a fist. “Think of how good it’ll feel to have your tight little cunt stretched around that.” 

It would feel like being split in half. Stiles swallows hard. “E-every time?” 

“It doesn’t have to be. The first time is the most important. After an alpha’s mate has been knotted for the first time, she’s his forever. Being tied together for that long…flooded again and again with his come…they say it’s like something changes inside of her, creates a chemical dependency on him for the rest of her life. And for him to trust her that much, to claim her? Well, he would never be able to let her go. That’s why it’s only for people who are absolutely sure they’ll love each other forever.” Derek’s voice keeps dropping as he speaks, until it’s a low murmur. Stiles stares at him for a moment, wordless, until Derek gives a little half-smile and drops a light kiss on his lips. 

“You’re welcome to ask me any other questions you have about it. But for right now I have to go out. We’re supposed to get some bad weather. There’s a hurricane heading to the west and we’re going to catch the edge of it. I want to have enough food to last us a few days.” Derek hesitates by the side of the bed. “I won’t tie you up, so you can keep reading. I’m going to lock the door from the outside. I’ll be very upset if I come home to find you’ve tried to leave. Can you behave?” 

“Yes,” Stiles assures him. He wants to spend more time reading—see if there are any secrets in here better to discover when Derek isn’t around. 

“All right. I’ll be back soon, honey. I love you.” Derek kisses him again and leaves, locking the door soundly behind him. Stiles flips through the book as quickly as he can, forcing himself to ignore some of the interesting-looking stuff on mermaid attacks and literal fairy infestations. The one thing he’s learned in here so far is that every magical creature has some kind of weakness. If he can discover Derek’s, he might have a new plan on how to get out of here. 

After almost an hour, he finds it. The entry is short and only features a single stark illustration. _Wolfsbane_. Apparently it’s some kind of plant, poisonous to werewolves. Even a single leaf can kill if the werewolf isn’t treated immediately. 

For some reason, looking at it makes a shiver run down Stiles’ spine. The entry says that death is protracted, and the wolf is in agony the whole time. He imagines Derek choking, falling to his knees, looking up at Stiles with fear and betrayal in his eyes… 

The door downstairs slams and Stiles jumps, quickly flipping away from the wolfsbane entry. “I’m back,” Derek calls as he heads up the stairs. “Store was crazy. It sounds like the storm might be worse than I thought.” He opens the door to the bedroom and frowns, lifting his nose a little as if he’s scenting something. “You okay?” 

“Yeah. Of course.” 

“You smell…anxious.” 

“I…wait you can _smell_ me?” 

“Of course. I always could. What is it? Did you read something in there that upset you?” Derek frowns at the book as if it had personally insulted Stiles. 

“No! No, I just…” Stiles exhales heavily. “I missed you.” 

Derek’s eyes soften. “I missed you too, babe. I hate being with all those people, knowing you’re alone here.” Derek sits on the bed, putting an arm around Stiles. For once, Stiles presses close to him willingly. He doesn’t know why the image of a wolfsbane-poisoned Derek is so upsetting to him, but he wants it out of his head. 

“You’re so perfect, you know that?” Derek whispers, kissing the top of his head. “My perfect girl. I love you, Gem.” 

Stiles only nods and closes his eyes, letting Derek’s warmth and woodsy scent envelop him. 

X 

The rain begins the next morning. It makes Stiles seriously anxious. It’s rare for Beacon Hills to flood, but whenever the town gets really bad storms like this there’s always damage to homes and accidents on the roads. His dad always ends up needing to leave the safety of their home and putting himself at risk to deal with the town’s disasters. 

“Babe,” Derek says lazily from his spot on the bed as Stiles paces the floor, staring out the window. “You’re driving me crazy. Come here.” 

“It’s not stopping,” Stiles mutters. 

“It’s nothing to worry about. We’re completely safe.” 

“I’m worried about…the people in town. They might not be prepared.” His dad won’t be. Stiles was always the one who had to stock up and reinforce the windows and make sure the flashlights had batteries. He swallows down a lump in his throat. Who knows what his dad is doing? 

“They’re fine, Gemma. You need to stop worrying so much. Come back to bed. Let’s paint your nails.” 

“I don’t want to.” 

“Gemma.” Derek’s voice is suddenly firm. “Listen to your alpha. Come here.” 

Stiles drags his feet but returns to the bed. Derek kisses him, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear. It’s definitely gotten longer. “It’s just rain,” he tells Stiles firmly, before pulling out a bottle of cherry-red polish and painting Stiles’ fingernails. He’s so pleased with how they look that he does the toenails too. He’s even removed the hair on Stiles’ big toes, and as Stiles stares at his own feet it’s hard to believe they actually belong to him and not a girl. 

The rain picks up as the day continues, and it’s the same the next morning. That night Stiles has just fallen asleep when there’s a load _crack_ and then a boom. He bolts awake, panicking, and feels Derek’s arms encase him tightly. 

“Sh, sweetheart. You’re perfectly safe. I’m here.” 

“I—I heard—” 

“A tree fell. That’s all.” 

“But it’s like I _felt_ it—” 

“I think it hit the house. I’ll fix it tomorrow morning.” Derek’s voice is very firm and calm, authoritative in the dark room, and Stiles feels himself begin to relax instinctively. “I know the storm is scary, but I’m right here. You don’t need to be afraid.” 

Stiles nods jerkily. He turns, so he’s facing Derek, and burrows into his arms, not ashamed tonight to seek out that comfort. Derek holds him tightly, stroking his hair and murmuring soothing words, until Stiles is asleep again. 

The next morning the sun is back out. They can see through the window that a tree has indeed fallen against the side of the house. The damage looks pretty severe, but Derek only shrugs. 

“I can fix that today,” he says casually. “It’ll be nice to be back in the sun, after two days cooped up.” 

“Lucky you,” Stiles grumbles. _He_ hasn’t seen the sun since Derek kidnapped him. 

Derek grins at him, obviously in a good mood. “You want to go out with me?” 

“Seriously?” 

“Sure. You could use the fresh air.” 

Stiles feels himself beam. It’s stupid, to be grateful to Derek for letting him go outside when Derek is the one keeping him locked up, but he can’t help it. “Let’s go now!” 

“Whoa, whoa.” Derek laughs. He loves it whenever Stiles gets excited. “You need to get dressed, babe. And then I’ll set up a place for you to sit. Here, I’ve been saving this for you.” From the dresser he pulls out a black and pink bikini. Stiles’ stomach plummets at the sight of it, but if he complains, he’ll just be stuck inside all day. 

“Come here. I’ll put in on for you.” 

This, too, is a necessary evil if Stiles wants to go out, so he reluctantly steps forward. Derek undresses him slowly, with proprietary strokes over his body, pausing here and there to kiss his shoulder or squeezes his thigh. The material of the bikini is thick and soft. Derek tucks his junk inside the bottoms neatly, looking pleased with the result, and then turns Stiles towards the mirror. His voice is low and husky. 

“Look at you, princess. Do you have any idea what you do to me?” 

Stiles looks. The top of the bikini is heavily padded, giving him the illusion of breasts. His legs look scrawny—no, _shapely_ —after doing nothing but yoga for a week and a half. The corset is still cinching his waist, creating curves, and his hair brushes his shoulders. He has to look away. The sight of himself makes his heart beat unpleasantly fast. 

“It would look better with the corset off,” he manages to say. 

“We’ll put a sundress over it.” Derek puts an arm around his waist and tugs him snugly against Derek’s side, admiring both of them in the mirror. “We look so good together,” he says proudly. 

Stiles glances at their reflection, and then looks away. It’s too weird. He looks so delicate next to Derek, like a little doll tucked into his side. 

Derek chuckles at his reaction. “What? You can’t bear to look at yourself without your face on?” He steps away and gently nudges Stiles towards the bathroom. “Go put your makeup on, sweetheart. I’ll get everything set up for you outside.” 

This is the first time Stiles has been expected to do his own makeup. He stares at his reflection in the bathroom vanity, hesitantly copying the steps he’s watched Derek do so often. At first he hadn’t liked the feeling of all that stuff on his face, but now he’s gotten used to it. 

He hesitates for a moment between the various shades of lipstick, wondering which one Derek wants him to put on, and finally just grabs the deep red because it’s the prettiest. He doesn’t do a great job on his eyes, practically sticking the mascara brush in his eyeball, but he figures he’s done enough to satisfy Derek. 

When he leaves the bathroom Derek is waiting for him with a sundress, a wide-brimmed hat, and sunglasses. He laughs at the poor job Stiles has done on his eye makeup, but doesn’t make him redo it, just tugs the sundress over his head and puts on the hat and sunglasses. Stiles catches another glimpse of himself in the mirror. The sundress is so tight that it clings to is body, making it look like the curves created by the corset are real. It makes him shiver. 

Outside, Derek has already set up a lounger and little glass table for Stiles, complete with a pitcher of lemonade and plastic cups. When Stiles settles down on it Derek takes that ever-present piece of rope from his pocket and loops it around Stiles’ wrist. 

“Derek,” Stiles whines. 

“The woods aren’t safe, remember? You can’t go wandering off.” Derek finishes tying Stiles to the side of the chair, and then grabs a bottle of tanning oil from the end table. He straddles Stiles and pours some of the oil into his palms before beginning to rub it into Stiles’ arms. It’s so intimate that Stiles wants to look away, but Derek is hovering over him, eclipsing even the sun. 

When he’s finished with Stiles’ arms he starts to do the same to his legs, pushing the sundress up on Stiles’ thighs so he can be sure the oil gets everywhere. Stiles can feel the heat of his fingers through the bikini’s fabric and he bites his lip, hard, trying not to get an erection. 

“There,” Derek murmurs. “Did I get you everywhere, babe?” 

Stiles nods jerkily and Derek smiles, bending down again to press a kiss to Stiles’ lips. “I’m going to work on the side of the house. Just say my name if you need anything.” 

He tugs off his shirt, then wipes the leftover oil on his hands onto his chest. His abs glisten and Stiles feels his erection finally stir all the way to life. He doesn’t understand why the sight of Derek would do that to him and he cross his legs to try and ignore it. 

Derek strides over to where the tree has crashed into the side of the house and just evaluates it for a moment. Stiles is just wondering how Derek expects to move something that size when Derek grabs the tree by the trunk and _pulls_. With a groan, the tree moves away from the house and crashes backward into the woods. 

Stiles’ mouth falls open. Had that really just happened? He’d learned from the book that werewolves are stronger than humans, but to actually be able to _move a tree_ with his bare hands… 

Derek dusts his hands off to survey the damage to the house. Then he _jumps_ , catching on to the first-floor window sill, and pulls himself up with one hand until he’s hanging on to the side of the house about fifteen feet up. In his other hand is a toolbox and some boards. Stiles watches in amazement as Derek begins to patch the damage, holding on to the house by what seems like his fingertips half the time. 

The effort is superhuman, but he makes it look easy. That’s not to say he isn’t exerting himself at all. His torso is glistening with sweat, abs straining with the effort of holding himself up. 

As Stiles watches, he feels himself becoming incredibly turned on. It doesn’t even make sense to him. He’s never thought too much about his sexuality, and sure, he’s been attracted to men before…but _never_ like this. He pours himself a glass of lemonade and drinks it too quickly, glad that he’s wearing sunglasses so Derek won’t be able to tell how closely Stiles is watching him. 

After a while Derek jumps down from the house, landing on his feet gracefully, and heads over to where Stiles is sitting, out-of-breath and covered in sweat. “Hey,” he says, nodding to the lemonade. “Pour me a glass of that.” 

Stiles grabs the pitcher and pours a cup full, with his hands shaking. His aim is a little off and some of the lemonade spills onto his hand. Derek chuckles and grabs it, lifting Stiles’ hand to his mouth and sucking the juice off of his fingers. 

“Delicious,” he says, voice low and heady. “Maybe I should just undress you and pour the whole pitcher over your body. I can lick it off your stomach and tits and thighs, press my tongue deep into your cunt to make sure I get it all. Would you like that?” 

Stiles hears himself gasp at the words. He tries to cross his legs again, but Derek grabs them and forces them open, sitting between them and reaching one hand inside Stiles’ dress. His thumb presses against the head of Stiles’ cock through the bikini bottoms. 

“I know you would. I could smell how turned on you were, watching me over there. Like a bitch in heat. Did you dream about me coming over here and using all my strength to hold you down and fuck you? Did you almost call my name so I would come do it?” 

Stiles shakes his head weakly. Derek rubs his thumb against the bikini, teasingly dragging it so slowly. Stiles can feel his precome soaking the fabric. “Why are you lying? I can feel how wet you are for me. All you have to do is ask and I’ll give you whatever you want.” 

“I…” Stiles hadn’t even expected himself to speak, it just slips out of him in a squeak. “I don’t…” 

“Let me help you,” Derek whispers. His lips are a hairsbreadth from Stiles’ and Stiles can feel their heat. “Should I kiss you, Gemma? Say yes, and I’ll do it. Say no…” His thumb presses harder against Stiles, making him gasp again. “And I walk away.” 

Stiles’ thoughts are all in a jumble. He should say no. But it’s just a kiss. That’s not so bad, surely. He needs _something_. If Derek walks away from him right now it would feel like something dying inside of him. 

“Give me your answer, Gemma. You get nothing if you say no. I’ll have to tie up your other hand, of course. You’re so desperate to get off you’d end up rutting against your own fingers for relief. I won’t have my girl acting like such a little slut for all the world to see.” Derek’s thumb is rubbing a circle now. One of his other fingers slips inside the fabric of the bikini, stroking over the sensitive, hairless skin. 

Yes. No. Stiles can barely breathe. “Kiss me,” he whispers. 

“Where?” Derek’s lips graze his so briefly it’s like he imagined it. “Here? Or is there a better place?” His lips move down Stiles’ collarbone, until they’re hovering just over the curve the bikini and dress are creating to look like breasts. Suddenly Stiles realizes that his nipples are on fire, so sore and hard it’s like they’re straining through the fabric to reach Derek’s lips. “Should I kiss you here? Peel back layer by layer until I can take your tits into my mouth? Should I suck at them until they’re so wet and red you’ll look like you’re nursing a pup there?” 

Stiles cries out as Derek’s thumb finally slips inside his bikini and scrapes against his cock. “This is where you really want me, isn’t it, Gemma?” 

Oh, God, he does. He feels like he’s going to lose his mind. “Yes, Derek. Please.” 

“You need to say it, sweetheart.” Derek is smiling so smugly, Stiles can barely stand to look at him. “Remember, I’m not like you. I’m a man. I’m terrible with directions. Tell me where I should kiss you.” 

“K-kiss…kiss my clit, Derek. Please. Please kiss my clit.” 

And Derek does. He kisses Stiles through the fabric of the bikini, so Stiles can just barely feel the press of his lips, and then he works the bikini bottoms down to Stiles’ ankles and kisses the head of his cock. Stiles is squirming, writhing in the chair. He’s going to come, just like this, tied down so helplessly to the chair. 

Then, suddenly, Derek freezes. He cocks his head towards the woods, and then yanks the bikini bottoms back up. He’s gone in a blur of movement, leaving Stiles blinking around in confusion. It’s like he just disappeared. 

“Derek?” he calls softly. His breath is still coming in pants. Is there part of the game for him or something? 

There’s a sound at the side of the house and Derek is back, hurrying from the house to Stiles at inhuman speed. His gaze is hard and serious and he’s clutching something in his hand. A rag and a bottle, Stiles realizes, just as Derek tips the bottle mouth over the rag. 

“What…” 

Derek presses the rag over his nose and mouth. Stiles’ head spins and for a moment everything goes black. He can feel Derek ripping the rope away from his wrist, nudging his head down until his chin rests against his chest, and arranging his legs so they’re neatly crossed. Sight returns, but Stiles realizes that he can’t move. Derek has drugged him again, but he hadn’t used quite enough. Stiles is awake, but completely paralyzed. All he can do is stare through his sunglasses in the direction Derek has pointed his head. 

Why? Why is he doing this? 

Then he hears it, what Derek’s enhanced hearing must have picked up minutes ago. Someone is in the woods. Someone is calling his name. His _real_ name. 

“Stiles! Stiiiiiles!” 

Derek has returned to the side of the house and picked up his toolkit again, casually working on a damaged windowsill. There’s a rustling from the woods and Derek looks up, as if he’s just now noticing that someone is coming their way. 

From this vantage point Stiles has a perfect view of the stranger. For a moment he sees the beige color of Beacon Hills police and his heart leaps, thinking it’s his dad. Then the stranger turns and he realizes it isn’t. It’s Jordan. Jordan Parrish, one of his dad’s deputies. 

His heart does a crazy, balletic leap in his chest. _Jordan_ , his mind screams. _Jordan, it’s me! I’m here!_

“Hey there,” Derek calls, putting down his toolbox and walking towards Jordan. “You lost?” 

Stiles tries to move with everything in him, but it’s hopeless. A sudden fear seizes him. Jordan is alone. Stiles knows exactly how strong Derek is. If Derek decides to attack Jordan, to keep him from taking Stiles away, there’s nothing to stop him from killing the deputy. 

“Uh, no…sorry to barge in on you. I didn’t know anyone was living out here.” Jordan sticks out his hand. “My name is Deputy Parrish. I’m with the Beacon Hills sheriff’s department.” 

“Sherriff?” Derek repeats, taking Jordan’s hand and pumping it once. “Is there some trouble I should know about?” 

“Oh, no. I’m just out here looking for a missing teenager. He’s been gone for a while, actually, but there was some thought he might have been in the woods, and after that storm some of us were worried he might have been hurt.” 

“In the woods? Why would he be out there?” 

“His father—who actually heads our department—thought maybe he ran away to prove a point or something. We figured he might have tried some Robinson Caruso survivalist thing and gotten himself in trouble.” 

Jordan’s voice is a little dismissive, and Stiles feels a stab of hurt. His dad thinks he ran away? That he was _trying to prove a point_ , like a little kid wanting attention? Stiles would never do anything like that. His dad needs him. Stiles wouldn’t just run off and leave. Sure, his dad works so much that they aren’t incredibly close right now, but still… 

“My guess is he headed towards LA, like most runaways, but his father says he didn’t take money or anything when he went. Apparently he’s always been super into Beacon Hills history, and talked about mapping the woods and stuff, so it’s possible he’s hiding out here.” 

“He sounds like a sweetheart,” Derek says. His voice is a little teasing, as if he and Stiles are sharing a joke, and Stiles fumes, so angry he’s surprised he isn’t bursting into flames. "I didn’t know about any missing boy. I haven’t seen anyone. It’s just me and my girlfriend out here.” Derek gestures to Stiles, and Jordan’s gaze falls directly on him. Stiles stares at him through the sunglasses, willing him to realize who it is he’s looking at. 

“Sorry,” Derek says with a little laugh. “She was out here tanning while I fixed some damage from the storm, and she fell asleep. I should have woken her up before she got sunburned, but it was nice to have a good view while I worked.” 

“Don’t blame you,” Jordan says. There’s an obvious edge of lust in his voice, and Stiles can see his gaze slip from Stiles’ face to his chest to his painted fingernails hanging off the edge of the chair to his delicately arranged legs. Horror spreads through Stiles’ paralyzed body. With his head down, over his Adam’s apple, and the dress covering his torso and crotch, Jordan can’t tell that he’s a boy. Jordan thinks he’s a girl. 

“I’ll take a flyer or something, if you have it, and give you guys a call if I see anything. I’d be really surprised if a kid has been living in the woods, though. It’s not the safest place in the world.” 

“Yeah,” Jordan says with a sigh. “I had to try. He’s a good kid, really. Hopefully he did go to LA and he’ll be back soon.” 

Stiles can’t bear to listen any more. He tries to move his body, focusing everything in him on just wiggling one toe, but it’s hopeless. Jordan and Derek speak for a few more minutes, and then Jordan leaves, throwing one last covetous glace over at Stiles. Derek balls up the missing poster Jordan had given him and tosses it into the trash before returning to work on the house. 

It's an hour at least before movement finally returns. Jordan is long gone, but Stiles still tries to moan for help. Derek is by his side in a flash, gently lifting him into his arms. 

“Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I didn’t want to have to do that. I didn’t hear him until he was so close all I could think to do was put you under. Sh, you’re okay.” 

Stiles strains away as best he can. “Don’t… _touch_ …me!” 

“I have to get you inside. Your legs aren’t working well enough to support you yet.” Derek’s voice is calm and rage thunders through Stiles. 

“I hate you!” It’s an effort to get the words out, but he manages, spitting them with all the venom he can muster. “I hate you _so much!_ You…you made him think I was a girl!” 

“Don’t blame me for that.” Derek snorts, carrying Stiles inside the house and shutting the door behind them. “He didn’t exactly need persuading, did he? Did you see how much he wanted you, Gemma? He thought he’d just stepped onto the set of a porno…the handyman and the socialite, waiting in the woods for a big strong policeman to complete their threesome.” He chuckles to himself. “I bet tonight, when he goes home, he’s going to jerk off to the thought of ravishing you while you were still asleep in that chair. You know, that’s not a bad fantasy. Maybe someday we’ll play it out together. Sleeping Beauty, claimed by the big bad wolf.” 

A frustrated screech bursts out from Stiles’ throat. Derek takes him back up to the bedroom and changes him back into a nightgown and robe, moving his limbs around like Stiles is a doll. 

In that moment, Stiles _does_ hate him. He hates him so much that he thinks back to the wolfsbane from the book Derek gave him, and suddenly the image of using it on Derek isn’t an unpleasant one at all. 

X 

Gemma is so sulky after that unexpected visit from one of Beacon Hill’s finest. Honestly, Derek isn’t thrilled about it himself. He doesn’t like the idea of the cops knowing he’s out here. He has no idea how many of them might be hunters, or be connected to hunters. If Jordan tells the others about what he saw… 

His family has always lived in Beacon Hills, but someday, to keep Gemma safe, they might have to move away. He files that thought away to return to at a later time, when Gemma is more amenable to things. 

For right now, his focus is on cheering his girl up. 

When it’s time for bed that night he doesn’t tie their wrists together. Instead, he ties Gemma’s hands together at the front of her body. “What are you doing?” she asks, sounding frightened. 

“Sh. I’m going to touch you, and I don’t want your hands getting in my way.” Derek turns her over onto her stomach, then rakes up her nightdress until her entire backside is exposed. Her ass is perfect. Derek wants to play with it, maybe using a paddle on it until it’s red and heated under his hands…but he can’t get distracted. 

He parts her cheeks, soothing her when she squeaks, and exposes her hole. He touches it gently, smiling at her intake of breath. “Do you know what this is, Gemma?” 

“It’s…it’s my…” 

“This is your cunt, and it belongs to me. This is where I’ll knot you on the next full moon.” He’s decided that’s the right day for it. It gives him enough time to make sure Gemma is completely ready, but not so long that he’ll go crazy. “But your virgin hole is so tight. I need to make sure it’s going to be ready for me.” 

“No,” she whispers. “Don’t, please…” 

“Don’t be silly. Do you think I’ve forgotten how desperate you were for me this morning? You don’t even know yet, how good I can make you feel here. Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.” Derek kisses her fluttering hole, then takes a bottle of lube he has waiting on the bedside table and coats his fingers. 

He teases her, circling her rim with his finger before he begins to work her open. He knows that no other man has touched her there; he was certain of that before he chose her. He doesn’t want to be too fast and rough. 

As he touches her, feeling her walls give way to his fingers, he can’t help but think back to Kate. He’d never knotted her, of course, but they had gotten close. Then, she had been the one teaching him how to do things. He was just a boy, and she was older and experienced. He can still hear her bossy voice, belittling him, forcing him on. 

He’d had so little control then. Having it now is such a gift. He kisses the back of Gemma’s neck, burying his face right where her scent is deepest. His middle finger slips all the way inside of her and she moans, arching her back at the stretch. 

“Hold still, princess,” Derek whispers. He adds a second finger. His own cock is throbbing, aching to knot her right now. But not yet. Not until she’s ready. 

He has to work to get his third finger in, she’s so delightfully tight. He moves them inside of her, stretching her open from the inside, and must be doing something right because he can feel her clit pulsing for him. 

“There.” He removes his fingers, one at a time, holding back a groan at the way her hole seems to grab at them, desperate to not be empty again. His free hand finds her clit and strokes. “See how you respond to me? You were made for me, my perfect girl.” 

She comes with a moan and he holds her tightly. When he’s this close to her, practically able to taste her pleasure, it’s harder and harder to remember Kate. Gemma is nothing like Kate, and that is his favorite thing about her. She will never hurt him; never betray him. 

Kate has been replaced: in his heart, in his bed, in his mind. Gemma has given that to him. A fresh start. A new life. “Gemma,” he whispers, over and over, like it’s a prayer. “Gemma, Gemma…” 

“Derek,” she whispers back, her voice weak. He loves when she says his name. He loves when she’s this sex-drunk, limp against him. He loves going to bed with her held so tightly in his arms, one day closer to the night he will make her his forever. 

He watches as she falls asleep. Even once she’s deeply under he continues to whisper soft, loving words, so if she dreams, she will only dream of him. 

He just wants to be the only thing she sees, even when she’s asleep. 

Really, after what he’s suffered, that’s not so much to ask.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've seen some hints in the comments that people are interested in seeing castration in this fic. I'm certainly not opposed to writing it (I've done it before and, damn it, I'LL DO IT AGAIN) but I don't want to force it on people who hate it, since it wasn't tagged when people start reading. If you have an opinion on it, please let me know, and I'll think carefully about it before making a decision. And if you do want castration, I'd be interested in hearing if you'd rather have it happen to an unwilling Stiles, or if you'd rather it happen once Stiles is so far gone that he's begging Derek to do it. (Wow, we really have fun conversations here, don't we?)  
> Thanks for all the support so far!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do you know why I love this place? Because only here could I throw out a question like, "Hey, should I castrate my main character?" and get 75+ smart, thoughtful responses that show you're thinking about this story as much as I am. I love you people. I could never explain you to the people I know in real life, but I love you.  
> The responses to that question were pretty divided, so I won't be able to make all of the people happy, but hopefully I can make most of the people mostly happy. Not going to reveal yet exactly what's going to happen. It did seem like most people want mpreg, which is good to know because originally I hadn't planned on including that. But if you want it, you'll get it!  
> This also seems like a good place to note that this story blends science and magic in Stiles' ultimate feminization. If there are any trans people reading the story, I just want to say that I'm trying to find the right balance of staying true to the trope while also being sensitive and respectful of real issues. If you feel like there's something in here that isn't both sensitive and respectful, please let me know and I'll take it out.  
> Thanks guys!

Derek is deep in a very contented sleep when he’s pulled to awareness by mumbling. He blinks, feeling his hackles raise as he makes sure there’s no threat. It’s Gemma mumbling in her sleep. She’s writhing a little, her mouth puckered, obviously in discomfort. 

“Babe?” Derek shakes her awake gently. “What it is?” 

She grimaces. “Ah… _hurts_ …” 

“What?” 

She gropes at her chest and Derek feels a thrill go through him. He’d dressed her in the tightest silk nightgown she owns. It’s straining at her chest, irritating her sensitive nipples. 

“Don’t touch them like that, sweetheart, you’ll only make it worse.” He pulls her hands away and switches on the light. “Let me see.” 

For a moment she looks like she might fight him, but then she reluctantly lets him pull off her nightgown. He has to stifle a groan at the sight of her tits. Her nipples are huge and red, rising from the tiny mound of her breasts. He gently presses his thumb against the tip of one. It’s so stiff. Gemma bites her lip, but can’t quite stifle her cry. 

“I’ll make them feel better,” Derek promises, pulling her into his lap. He would love to tease her right now. In the top drawer of the dresser he has plenty of toys he could use right now…a single feather to torture her, or clamps for the most exquisite mix of pain and pleasure. But not right now. 

She goes into his lap without complaint, leaning her head against his shoulder. He massages her chest, squeezing her nipples gently to work out the stiffness. His father used to do this for his mother while she was pregnant. The thought does something strange to him. Fills him with a heady sense of excitement and longing. He can almost imagine that his beautiful girl is pregnant, heavy with his child as she nestles close to him. He can almost image that her breasts are growing so they can fill up with milk, to feed the hungry mouth of a newborn pup… 

He fights down the thoughts. He knows his girl can never have children. He can’t let himself even imagine. It would be so cruel to remind her that she can’t give that to him. She’s enough for him. He accepts her exactly as she is. 

Besides, that’s not to say they can’t have a child another way. There are always ways to get a baby. Gemma would make such a wonderful mother. He’ll find a way to make that happen. 

After several minutes all the stiffness has gone out of her breasts. She’s drifted back off to sleep in his arms. His heart swells with tenderness. Even though she’s not quite settled in yet, here she is, comfortable enough to fall asleep like this. Her body knows she’s safe in his arms. 

Her body—that’s the part he already controls completely. 

Her heart will come soon. 

X 

The morning after Derek’s little chest massage Stiles has a hard time looking at him in the eye. He’d been so _weak_ last night, allowing Derek to touch him like that, sighing in relief as the pain had ebbed. 

But he just couldn’t help it. He feels so weird there—prickly and sore and strained. He can’t delude himself any more—those shots Derek keeps giving him are obviously changing his body. 

They can both tell that his nipples are straining through the fabric of his shirt again in the morning. Derek smiles, reaching out to stroke one gently. “You’ll need to wear a bra every day from now on,” he tells Stiles. “I already have plenty in the dresser.” 

Stiles blushes and looks away, but when he gets dressed he has no other option but to put on one of the small bras Derek offers to him. They’re padded, and the cushioning doesn’t feel all that bad against his chest. Still, he can’t bear to look at himself in the mirror. 

Derek, of course, is delighted with it. He drags him over to the mirror and wraps him in a hug from behind, swaying a little as he admires their reflection. He kisses Stiles’ cheek, rubbing his own stubbly one affectionately over Stiles’ ear. “Close your eyes,” he whispers. “I have a present for you.” 

Stiles does, and after a moment he feels something cool around his neck. He tenses automatically as it tightens a little. Then it relaxes and something small sits against his collarbone. 

“Open.” 

Stiles looks at himself in the mirror. Derek has put a locket around his neck. He opens it and sees that Derek has already put a picture of himself inside. 

It’s a good picture. Derek looks young and relaxed, smirking a little at the camera. Stiles wonders who took it. His last girlfriend, before she betrayed him? A member of his family, before they died? 

The boy in this picture just looks like a handsome, nice guy. It’s hard to look at him, and then up at Derek, and remember that they’re different. Derek changed from this boy. He’s _crazy_ —crazy enough to think that this is a sweet gift. 

“Do you like it?” 

“Yes. Thank you.” Stiles automatically tilts his face up so Derek can kiss him. His hand tightens on the little heart as Derek kisses him with gusto, prying open his mouth with his tongue. He wonders what Derek would do if he just tore it off his neck, threw it to the ground, had a temper tantrum. It might be worth it just to break that façade of normalcy. 

But he doesn’t. He’s too scared. He just stays still while Derek kisses him. 

Later, Derek does something surprising. He usually goes down to make breakfast himself and then bring it up so they can eat together in the bedroom, but today he takes Stiles to the kitchen with him. “I think it’s time for you to start making breakfast,” he says, sitting down on a stool at the marble bar and nudging Stiles into the kitchen. “Let’s have eggs, bacon, and toast. You can work your way up to more complex dishes. I want you to start making all our meals from now on.” 

Stiles bristles a little. “Why, because that’s what _girls_ do?” 

“Not necessarily,” Derek answers, unfazed. “But the mate of the alpha always prepares meals. The alpha is the provider, and his mate is the domestic.” He smiles at Stiles, almost sweetly. “The food will taste even better to me, knowing that my girl made it. And you’ll be happy to see me enjoying what you made. That’s the dynamic in all alpha pairs.” 

Stiles rolls his eyes, but this is hardly the thing that’s going to break him. Fortunately, he likes cooking. He’s done it for his dad all his life. Did Derek know that, when he chose Stiles? Did he watch him at home doing all the cooking and laundry? He can almost imagine Derek rationalizing it to Stiles: _Your father was lucky to have a daughter to take care of him, but now it’s time for you to take care of me…_

He shudders and grabs eggs and bacon out of the fridge. “There’s an apron in the pantry, honey,” Derek murmurs from behind him. “I don’t want you to get grease on your clothes.” 

The apron is white and frilled with big pink flowers. Stiles ties it around his waist, swallowing hard at the way it clings to the curves of his body. Derek watches with silent approval as Stiles whisks the eggs in a bowl and puts the bacon into the microwave. 

As he works, he thinks about the drawings of wolfsbane in that book. If he had some, he could use it to poison Derek. He probably wouldn’t suspect it at all. He would just take a bite, still smiling at Stiles, and then… 

Stiles imagines him clutching his throat and falling to the ground. Choking. _Dying_. The thought makes him feel sick to his stomach. Derek doesn’t need to _die_ , he just needs help. A psychiatric hospital or something. 

Though he isn’t sure how a place like that would deal with the fact that Derek is a werewolf. If people found out about that…maybe they would want Derek dead. There are people who hunt werewolves just for existing, after all. It really isn’t a surprise that Derek hides from the world, after that. How could he trust _anyone_ , knowing there are people out there hunting him? 

“Hey, you,” Derek says, and Stiles realizing he’s been standing there, staring at the wall. “Where’d you go?” 

“Shit. Sorry.” Stiles stirs the eggs on the stove, hoping they aren’t ruined. 

“Language,” Derek reproaches him. “What are you thinking about?” 

“I…I was thinking about…hunters.” Stiles peers at Derek, hoping the topic won’t set him off. “I was just thinking that…it isn’t fair. That you always have to be afraid.” 

“I’m not afraid,” Derek says calmly. “Hunters got to my family because I was weak and let one into my heart. That will never happen again. Nobody will ever hurt us, Gemma. I promise.” 

Stiles nods and finishes breakfast. He carries a plate over to Derek, who takes a bite and beams. 

“Delicious, baby. Thank you.” 

They eat together in silence for a few minutes. Stiles stares out the window, losing himself in thought again. 

“It’s okay to ask me questions about things like my life, you know,” Derek says softly after a moment, breaking into his thoughts. “Hunters, living as a werewolf…thing like that. I like to think that you’re interested.” 

“I am interested,” Stiles says automatically. It’s true. How could he not be? 

“I can give you my emissary’s other files, if you want. I’m sure there’s stuff in there he’s never even gotten around to reading.” Derek beams at him. “I know my smart girl can get through them he faster than he can.” 

“Yes, please.” Stiles beams back automatically. He’s read the book Derek gave him cover to cover, and having something else to do other than try on clothes for Derek and watch old romantic movies with him would be fantastic. 

“Then I’ll go get them later today.” Derek reaches out to tuck a strand of Stiles’ hair behind his ear. “This is what makes you such a perfect mate,” he says softly, eyes warm with love. “No other human would be so willing to learn. I adore you, baby.” 

Stiles feels heat rising into his cheeks, but for once, its accompanied by a strange twist of pleasure in his stomach. He’s always felt like his nerdy obsessions, his tendency to keep his nose stuck in a book, is the thing that’s kept him from ever having a real relationship. It’s weird to think that’s what had made Derek take him. 

For the first time, he realizes that he could let Derek convince him that he’s…special. That this is an honor; a privilege to be loved this much, by someone so powerful. If Stiles chose to see things that way, he knows Derek would praise him like this every day, telling him how smart he is, how beautiful, how adored. He would be kept safe as Derek’s little treasure, blissfully freed of worrying about who he’s supposed to be or what he’s supposed to do. Derek would take care of everything. 

But that…that would be insane. He can’t do that. 

“I’ll do the dishes,” he mutters, jumping off the stool and hurriedly grabbing Derek’s plate. Derek doesn’t respond, only sits back and watches him, smiling the whole time, as if he can read Stiles’ mind. 

X 

Later that day Derek goes out and returns with boxes and boxes of files. Many of them are dusty or water-stained, going back years and years. 

“I don’t know how many of them will be interesting,” Derek says apologetically as he puts the last one down next to the bed. “It’s a lot of different stuff. Collated research, mating records, birth details…just tons of information like that.” 

“Mating records?” Stiles repeats. 

“Yes. A long time ago werewolves would only marry werewolves, so detailed records had to be kept to make sure nobody ever interbred accidentally. Then there weren’t that many werewolves left in the area, so my family started to mate with humans. Only accepting ones, of course. They had to understand they were marrying into a pack.” Derek smiles a little wistfully. “Once, the Hale pack was one of the biggest in the country. We had so many humans living with us. Sometimes human mates would bring their families so everybody could live together peacefully. That was a long time ago, though. Now, with so many hunters searching for us…” Derek trails off. 

“So, you mean…if I had a family…they could still see me, even once I’m mated to you?” Stiles had thought that the world of werewolves had to be kept secret, completely closed off from humans. If that’s not true…maybe Derek would someday let him see his dad again. 

Derek looks at him evenly for a few minutes. “ _If_ you had a family,” he says finally. “But I don’t think Gemma Stilinski does have a family, does she?” 

Stiles looks away. “I don’t know,” he mutters petulantly. 

Of course, he’s being stupid. Derek would never let that happen. What would he tell his dad? _“Hey, dad, here’s my kidnapper. He likes to pretend I’m a girl and keep me tied up so I won’t run away. What’s up with you?”_

Nope. If he wants to see his dad again, it won’t be with Derek’s help. 

He grabs out the first folder and flops down to read. He usually lies on his stomach, but today his chest gets in the way, so after wriggling around uncomfortably for a few minutes he gives up and lies on his side instead. 

The folder he’s picked is the most recent one. It’s not super interesting—just a lot of accumulated research about werewolves. He isn’t even sure how much of it is accurate. 

He wonders who Derek’s emissary is. Does he know all the details about what’s going on here? He must, or he wouldn’t be giving Derek those shots, the shots that are clearly working. But maybe Stiles should try to meet him. Anybody else has to be more rational than Derek. 

Then he looks down at the page he’s just flipped to. 

_Wolfsbane cross-breeds_. 

It’s about different strains of the poisonous plant. The pages have been printed off the internet, with margin notes made in neat handwriting. Each type of wolfsbane has a picture showing what it looks like. 

Stiles’ gaze goes to one halfway down the page. It’s a diluted strain of wolfsbane, capable of causing serious sickness and pain but won’t kill unless ingested in large amounts. It’s the only one that’s proven to have no ill effects on humans. What catches his eye, though, is the picture. 

He’s seen this plant before. 

A few years back, during his boy scout phase, when Scott’s dad had left and his mom had pulled him into family therapy so Stiles was suddenly left with a ton of free time. He’d been in the woods all the time, collecting different plant specimens. 

His science teacher had taken pity on him and offered him an extra credit assignment. Stiles had made a plant book, snipping leaves off various trees and bushes and labelling them. And then he had found this small, flowery plant, growing in a perfect circle. Its appearance was so distinctive that he had been fascinated by it. 

He’d spent hours trying to identify it, even taken it in to show his teacher. Neither of them could figure it out. 

It’s not deadly. It could just…incapacitate Derek long enough for Stiles to get away. Stiles could handle that. It would still make Derek furious, of course—he would see it as the worst kind of betrayal. But Stiles can get him the help he needs, once he’s free. 

Could he find that spot where it was growing? It hadn’t been that far from his house. But he doesn’t know exactly where Derek’s house is compared to his. He would end up lost completely if he just tried to find it on his own. 

“What are you looking at?” 

Stiles jumps a little. “Oh…nothing. Just…” He grabs at another page at random, hoping it’s less offensive. “Um…research on how eclipses affect werewolf behavior.” 

Derek comes to join him on the bed. There’s a strange expression on his face. “No, you weren’t.” 

Stiles stares at him. Had he seen the page? Does he know that Stiles is wishing he could find this plant and use it to get out of here? “I…” 

“I know what you were looking at.” Derek grabs up the papers on the bed and flips through them quickly. “Yep. Here.” He pulls one out and shows it to Stiles. “This is what you were reading, isn’t it?” 

It isn’t the wolfsbane page. Instead it’s a page on knotting rituals. There are pictures again, this time of real people. One is up-close, showing the way the woman stretches around the alpha’s knot. 

“You were breathing so heavily. This excites you, doesn’t it?” 

Stiles doesn’t know what to say. “It scares me,” he whispers finally. 

“Oh, baby.” Derek cups his cheek. “I understand that. But it won’t hurt. I’ll make sure you feel so good. Once your body adapts, you’ll be begging me to knot you. Before bed, in the morning…you’ll want me to bend you over the breakfast bar, or knot you outside so you can feel the sun all the way through your body.” His eyes bore into Stiles’ intently. “You know that feeling you’ve had all your life, that dissatisfied, unsettled feeling? It will be gone. You’ll finally be sated.” 

Stiles feels child break out over his body. _Dissatisfied…unsettled…_ How did Derek know he’s always felt that way? 

“I—I want to keep reading about it,” he whispers, desperate to get Derek away from him. “So I…do everything right when you first claim me.” 

Derek smiles at him. “That’s my girl,” he murmurs, leaning in for the lightest of kisses. “Go ahead, princess. I’ll be right over here if you need me.” 

Stiles tries to find something else to read, but he can’t focus on anything. Two thoughts bounce crazily in his head: wolfsbane and knotting. His future will be decided by one of them. Either he finds the wolfsbane in the woods and uses it to get free, or Derek will knot him. What if all of Derek’s stories are true? What if Stiles really does succumb to him? He tries to imagine it, begging Derek to fuck him, whining for his knot. 

Derek would always give it to him, of course. He can just picture his indulgent smile, the dirty promises and endearments he would growl into Stiles’ ear, the things he would coax Stiles into saying as he begged for relief. 

The thought…it sends a jolt of lust through Stiles’ body. He’s hard, he realizes in horror. Hard for the first time he’s gotten here without Derek’s direct physical manipulation. 

He can’t let Derek see. He tries to make it go away by forcing the worst thoughts he can imagine into his head, but all he can picture is Derek spready his legs, stretching him wide enough to take the knot, praising Stiles for being so perfectly made to fit him… 

“I have to go to the bathroom,” he blurts, scrambling off the bed as carefully as he can so Derek won’t see his erection. 

Fortunately, Derek doesn’t even glance up from his laptop. “M’kay, babe.” 

Stiles tries to jerk himself off as quickly as possible. As much as it shames him he lets himself indulge in the fantasy of Derek, until he can almost feel Derek’s hands on him; almost hear Derek telling him what a perfect girl he is. 

Just as he’s starting to find a rhythm, the bathroom door slams open. 

“What do you think you’re doing?” Derek stares at him, seemingly dumfounded. “Are you _touching_ yourself? Gemma!” 

Stiles groans. He desperately wants to finish, but Derek grabs his hand and pulls him away from the toilet. “That is _not_ how nice girls behave, Gemma. You want to feel good? You ask me. You don’t come in here and…and _grab_ at yourself like some kind of animal.” 

“I’m sorry,” Stiles gasps. “But Derek, I need…I need…” 

“I know what you need. You’re lucky I can’t resist you when you’re like this.” Derek’s voice is low and a little dangerous, but all Stiles can feel is relief that Derek is going to take care of him. He strips off his pants, then undresses Stiles completely. “You just needed some friction on your clit, didn’t you?” he whispers, his voice as silky as Stiles had imagined it in his fantasy. 

Stiles nods, pressing himself close against Derek. Derek touches his thigh, teasingly drawing a little circle with the very tip of his finger, but doesn’t start to stroke him like Stiles is hoping. He must be waiting for Stiles to ask. “Will you touch my clit, Derek?” he asks, hearing the begging note in his voice but not really able to care. 

“No, princess, I’m not going to touch your clit. I’m going to make you work for it this time.” Derek kisses the tip of his nose. “Close your eyes.” 

Stiles does, and almost whines when Derek moves away from him. He can hear Derek moving something around, fumbling behind him, and then a small beeping sound. “Open,” he says, and Stiles opens his eyes to see Derek laying on the bed, legs spread wide. 

“What…” Stiles tries to look behind him, sure he had heard Derek doing something there, but Derek shakes his head. 

“You don’t need to look back there. Come here. Get on top of me. I want you to drag your clit over my cock until you come.” 

Stiles stifles a groan. He climbs hesitantly on top of Derek, fitting their groins together. When he looks down, he has to swallow hard. Even erect, his cock looks so, so tiny next to Derek. He can rub it up the length of Derek’s without problem. 

And it feels good. So, so good. Derek’s cock is hard and wet with precome, giving Stiles just the right amount of friction. Stiles can hear himself moaning as he moves, doing all the work himself while Derek just lies back, staring at him with heavily lidded, lust-drunk eyes. 

It’s harder than it usually is to finish. He has to rub himself hard against Derek, in fast little jerks. He can feel his balls drawing up, tighter and tighter as he works for it. When he finally releases the extra effort makes it twice as good as any orgasm he’s ever had before. It pounds through him, with little aftershocks that ripple out slowly. He looks down to see that he’s barely even made a mess. He’s not… _producing_ as much as he used to. He thinks. It’s so hard to remember and compare… 

Derek tugs him down and kisses him, tucking him neatly into his arms. “Did that feel good?” 

Stiles nods, shutting his eyes to enjoy the dewy warmth of Derek’s chest. Derek chuckles at him. “I want to hear you say it, Gemma. I helped your little clit feel very good, didn’t I? You should thank me.” 

Stiles is too exhausted from his orgasm to resist. “Thank you for making my clit feel good, Derek.” 

“You were very focused on your own pleasure. It’s polite to ask me now if you were a good girl for me.” Derek’s voice is so low Stiles can barely hear him, but he knows better than to try and pretend he didn’t. He had enjoyed that _very_ much, after all, and he doesn’t want Derek to decide he can’t have it again. 

“Was I a good girl for you, Derek?” 

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re such a good girl.” Derek kisses him again, then climbs out of the bed. Stiles watches sleepily as he crosses over to the dresser directly across from the foot of the bed. He reaches to the top and removes a small device with a blinking red light. Stiles watches as he presses a button on it. There’s another beep like he’d heard before. 

Stiles sits up, abruptly alert. “Were you _recording_ that?” 

“Yes, I was. Let’s watch it. I want you to see.” Derek connects the camera to an aux cord attached to the television. He climbs back into the bed, pulling Stiles into his arms as if they’re just going to watch another old movie together. 

The first thing Stiles sees is himself. He’s facing the bed, so the camera only catches him from the back. His hair gently brushes his shoulder. The corset pulls him in—Derek’s been tightening it more and more—so that he has an hourglass figure to rival any model. His face, Adam’s apple, and junk is all hidden from the camera. It’s impossible to tell he’s a man. 

On the screen Derek lies down on the bed. Stiles watches himself climb on top of Derek and begin to move back and forth. He hears the high, breathy moans coming from his own mouth. When he comes he throws back his head, crying out in a little squeak. He tumbles down into Derek’s arms. Derek’s voice is so low that the camera doesn’t pick it up, so Stiles hears himself sweetly thanking Derek and appearing to ask, unprompted, “Was I a good girl for you, Derek?” 

Stiles can’t even breathe. He looks like a woman on that video, a woman completely willing to be with Derek. How could he have let that happen? 

A sickening thought occurs to him. If he gets away from here, all Derek has to do is show that tape to prove that Stiles came to him willingly. How could Stiles argue the opposite? He doesn’t know if that’s why Derek did it, but it’s all he can think about. 

“There,” Derek says softly when the video ends. “You can see what I see now, can’t you?” 

Stiles doesn’t answer. He shuts his eyes, shame churning his stomach, as Derek hugs him close. 

X 

The next morning, when he’s getting dressed, Derek tells him to close his eyes again. “I have another gift for you,” he says sweetly, reaching out to adjust the locket so it rests right against his chest. 

Stiles obediently closes his eyes, expecting to feel another necklace, or maybe a bracelet. Instead, he feels something cold being fitted around his penis. He jerks, eyes flying open. ‘What are you doing?” he cries, trying to struggle away. 

“Sh.” Derek’s hands move nimbly. He’s locking on a cock cage. “Don’t struggle, sweetheart. I don’t want to hurt you.” 

“Stop! Stop! I don’t want it!” 

“I know but you need it. There!” Derek finishes and pulls his hands away, satisfied. “Sh, sh. No, you can’t take it off. I’m going to keep the key in my pocket. I’ll take it off for you at night.” 

“But…” Stiles feels tears come to his eyes. His dick looks so tiny and sad, all caged up like that. “Why?” 

“Because of what happened yesterday. I don’t like you trying to touch yourself like that. Trying to pleasure yourself like a man would.” Derek’s voice is distasteful. “This way you won’t be able to waste your energy. I’ll be the one who decides when you come. And it should help shrink your clit a bit more.” He admires the cage in the mirror, like it’s just another piece of jewelry he’s making Stiles wear. “See how pretty it is? It looks amazing on you, babe.” 

“I don’t like it.” Stiles’ voice is unsteady. “I want it off.” 

“No. Just trust me on this. You need it for now.” 

Stiles shakes his head, at a total loss for words. Derek chuckles indulgently at him and pulls him into an embrace. “Don’t worry.” Derek’s voice is confident as he huge Stiles close. “You’ll see that I’m right eventually.” 

X 

Stiles is reading again. He’s had the stupid cock cage on for a day, and he’s still so angry at Derek that he just wants to lose himself in his research. 

He’s way far back. An emissary from several generations ago had been an incredibly detailed record-keeper and Stiles is currently enthralled in an elaborate recounting of a son challenging his father to become the alpha of the Hale pack, after the father had killed the mother. He can’t help but imagine the son as Derek, both of them filled with the same intense mix of grief and purpose. 

He flips the page and continues the story of the new Hale alpha. His name is Thayer and the emissary is obviously in awe of him, describing him like some sort of god. But there’s a problem with Thayer’s new role as the alpha. Thayer has a male lover, Bron, he has already knotted. As alpha, he’s driven to procreate, but he can’t bear to abandon the man he loves. 

The emissary is determined to help his beloved alpha. Stiles reads on in stunned fascination as the emissary details his research and concoctions and spells as he tries to find a way to help the alpha and his lover conceive a child. 

Then he does it. Stiles’ mouth drops further as he reads the emissary’s careful recounting of the spell he uses. Sap drawn from deep inside the Nemeton tree is brushed onto Bron’s genitals on the night of the full moon. Thayer knots him at the base of the tree. The emissary than performs what is proudly described as a “full change of genitalia” surgery, in which the glans of Bron’s shrunken penis becomes his clit and the inverted skin of his penis becomes a fully-functioning vagina. His balls, infused with the magic of the Nemeton, are drawn up into his body and become ovaries and a womb. “The perfect blend of science and magic,” the emissary calls it, describing in awe how he had watched the magic “knit all his new parts together” until he “seemed to have been a natural woman all his life.” In the following pages he describes the children born to Thayer and Bron, each born safely. 

Stiles shuts the folder, stunned. It’s from one of the oldest boxes Derek had brought him, so dusty that Stiles is sure nobody’s looked at it for years. The story must not have been passed down, but just stayed hidden away until Stiles discovered it. 

He can never let Derek see this. 

Stiles has no doubt Derek would immediately want Stiles to go through the same process, irreversibly changing his body so he can give Derek children. 

He has a flash of it in his head—Derek holding him from behind, hands proud over an expansive belly. He shuts the thought out before he can feel anything about it. This has to stay a secret. It just has to. 

He shoves the folder back inside the box and covers it with a few others. “I don’t want to read anymore,” he says, his voice sounding too-loud in the bedroom. “Should I go make lunch?” 

Derek glances up from his laptop. “It’s only ten o’clock, babe.” He frowns at the sight of Stiles. “You look strange. Are you all right?” 

“I…I feel kind of jittery. Maybe I should do my yoga.” 

“Come here.” Derek shuts his laptop and stands, beckoning Stiles towards him. He presses his lips to Stiles’ forehead as if checking for a fever. “You seem all worked up. Here, just stay where you are for a second.” He wraps his arms around Stiles, tucking him close. “There’s my girl. Just relax.” 

Stiles takes in a few big gulps of air, trying to get the story out of his head. Derek starts to move a little, as if they’re dancing, and it’s oddly soothing. “Talk to me,” Derek murmurs. 

“About what?” 

“Tell me about what you were reading.” 

Stiles shakes his head, too-fast. “It was nothing. It was boring.” 

“Then tell me about yourself. Tell me why you like research so much. Why you liked to read about the Beacon Hills woods.” 

That’s an easier question. “After my mom got sick…I wanted to escape. Everywhere I went I was just the kid with the sick mom. I couldn’t get away from it. But in the library, nobody ever bothered me. And it was always so quiet in the woods, so I started to read about it more, and hang out there after school. It always felt a little magical to me and I wanted some magic in my life then.” 

“You felt that? All the way back then?” Derek’s voice is awed. “You knew how special the woods were. It’s like you were drawn to me even then.” 

Stiles doesn’t even want to follow that line of thought. “I just loved it in there. I wanted to be a Boy Scout, but they didn’t do it in our town, so me and my best friend would just go out together and try to be adventurers. I really wanted to catch my own food out there, but I was just a kid, so I didn’t know how to hunt anything. Instead I found these wild mushrooms. I researched to make sure they were safe, and then I took some home and cooked them for dinner. I was so proud of myself. I kept going out to get them, until my dad finally begged me to stop. He hates mushrooms.” Stiles stops abruptly. He misses those days, when he’s been so adventurous. 

Derek laughs at him. “My poor Gemma. I’d eat your mushrooms. I bet they were delicious.” 

“They really were,” Stiles says wistfully. “They taste better when you get them yourself.” 

“Do you remember where they were? We could go find them. I would love to watch you make them for me.” 

Stiles frowns. Does he? “I wouldn’t know how to find them from here.” 

“I have a map that shows all of Beacon Hills. If you could figure out where they were from your old house, we could find them from here.” 

Stiles looks down so Derek won’t see his face. “I think I could.” 

“Would you like that? You’ve been so good lately, I’d like to take you out. A nice long walk in the woods would be good for you, I think.” 

“I would like that. If we can find it.” Stiles feels his heart beating a little unsteadily. Derek doesn’t seem to notice, just smiles again and kisses him. 

“I’ll get my map.” 

His map of Beacon Hills is huge and detailed. He spreads it out over the bed and Stiles uses his finger to find where his house is. “I would enter the woods from this street here… and then head off to the left until I reached the creek.” 

The mushroom patch he’d found was close to the stream. But instead of pointing there, Stiles veers off, pointing over to the right. “Here,” he says. “Somewhere around here. I’ll know the way better once I see landmarks.” 

There’s where he’d found the wolfsbane. 

“Okay,” Derek says. He points to the spot on the map where his house is located. “That’s only about three quarters of a mile from us. Should we go? I think it would be fun.” 

Stiles nods. 

“Okay.” Derek puts an arm around his waist and squeezes him. “It’s a date.” 

X 

Derek is so excited to take Gemma out into his woods. It’s truly where he feels most at home. He loves the idea of leading her through it, seeing all the places she used to go alone, and then bringing her safely back home. 

He hadn’t expected to trust her this much this early. But she’s been so good lately. A little agitated, but he thinks he understands that. She’s about to finally accept her new life completely. It’s natural that that might be a difficult thing. But she’s cooking and cleaning without complaint, sleeping so demurely by his side at night that he doesn’t even need to tie her up any more. He wants to reward that. 

And what better way than showing her how perfectly suited they are for each other? That he understands her better than any of those people she used to know ever did? 

He’ll show her what a good tracker he is, how he can keep her safe out there, how much he loves the food she’ll make for him. Then he’ll take off her cage and get her clit to squirt for him again before bedtime, as a reward for her for behaving so well on their date. 

It’s going to be perfect. 

X 

They go the next day. Derek wants to leave in the late afternoon, “so we don’t run into any hikers.” He lets Stiles wear jeans, for once—tight low-rise jeans, of course, but jeans nevertheless. He picks out a white camisole and red jacket for Stiles to wear. When he’s satisfied with Stiles’ appearance he cups his cheek, eyes sparkling down at him. “You’re so pretty,” he says affectionately. “Who made you so pretty, huh?” 

Stiles feels the familiar blush rising in his cheeks. He doesn’t intend to answer, but it slips out anyway: “I guess you did.” 

Derek smiles. “I guess that’s true.” 

He gives Stiles a basket and takes him outside and into the woods. He’s assured Stiles that he can lead the way—he knows the woods well enough that all Stiles had to do was show him the way once. 

Knowing where he’s actually leading them—Stiles feels sick to his stomach. Derek is so conscientious as they walk, pulling branches out of the way and swatting away bugs before they get near him. Stiles wishes he would say something horrible, remind Stiles of why he’s doing this, but he just won’t. 

“Here’s the stream,” Derek says cheerfully after several minutes. “To the right now?” 

Stiles hesitates. A thought comes to him, suddenly bright in the darkness of his muddled mind: _I don’t have to do this._

He can tell Derek he had been wrong. That they just have to go to the left and the mushrooms will be there. He can collect them in the basket, go home, and make them, and Derek will stay like this, so happy, so loving. 

“Gemma?” Derek’s brows furrow. “Don’t you remember which way to go?” He steps close to him, putting a hand on his cheek. “What is it, sweetheart? What’s wrong?” 

Stiles shakes his head. “Nothing,” he whispers. 

“I know that’s not true.” Derek waits him out. Stiles almost confesses, breaks down in tears so Derek will forgive and comfort him. Then, just as it’s on the tip of his tongue, Derek’s mood suddenly seems to cool. “We’re closer to town now,” he murmurs, stepping so close that Stiles suddenly feels like he’s being caged. “Is that it? Are you thinking about doing something silly, Gemma?” 

“No!” 

“I don’t believe you. Were you planning on running? Shouting for help? That would be incredibly stupid.” Derek’s voice is cold. “I’d like to be able to take you out. Enjoy the things you like with you. But if you can’t handle yourself out here, we’ll just stay home from now on.” 

Stiles shakes his head again. He feels suddenly calm, as if Derek’s cold, hard voice has cut through his anxieties. “No,” he says. “I was just making sure I remembered the right way to go. It’s to the right, like you said. Let’s go.” 

Derek smiles again, dark mood flying away. “Okay, then. Lead the way, Little Red.” 

Somehow, Stiles manages to smile back. “So that’s why you picked this outfit.” 

“It’s a good color on you.” Derek smacks his ass teasingly as he moves into the lead. “And I’m all ready to play the big bad wolf.” 

Stiles walks forward mechanically. He recognizes the stream, the trees, the bushes. He used to come out here all the time. It had been an escape for him then. Now it will be again. He knows how to get home from here. All he has to do is get away from Derek and run. 

He walks a little faster to increase the distance between them. There. This is where he saw it before. For a moment he thinks it’s gone, but then he sees the little flowers poking up from the leaves. It’s still here. 

“Did you find them?” Derek calls from behind him. Stiles can hear his footsteps speeding up. He takes a deep breath and grabs a handful of the plant, yanking it up by the roots. 

“Gemma?” 

Stiles turns. Derek frowns at his fistful. “What’s—” 

Stiles thrusts it out towards him. “It’s wolfsbane,” he says. His voice sounds too loud. It’s like suddenly every bird in the sky has stopped chirping. “I read about it in those files. Don’t come any closer. You know what this can do to you.” 

Derek stares at him. His eyes seem to shudder, his face collapsing. “No,” he whispers. “Gemma, no.” 

“I’m going, Derek. You’re not going to follow me, or I swear I’ll force this down your throat.” Stiles waits, but Derek doesn’t move. Just stands there, staring, as if something inside him has been shut off. “You brought the rope, didn’t you?” He hadn’t seen Derek grab it, but of course he brought it, in case Stiles misbehaved and he needed it. 

Sure enough, Derek nods slowly. He stares into Stiles’ eyes for another moment, then looks down at the ground. He looks like a man racked with grief and Stiles has an intense, irrational longing to comfort him. He swallows it down. 

“Use it to tie your hand to the branch over there.” 

Derek does. He doesn’t look at Stiles again. Everything feels very still and sluggish, as if Stiles is watching it in slow-motion. 

“Okay.” Stiles takes a breath. He doesn’t know what Derek will do when he starts to run, if he’ll tug his hand free and chase or if he’ll just let him go. “I’m going now.” 

Derek doesn’t respond. Stiles can’t stand this. He feels like something is unfinished, like this just isn’t right. “Derek,” he starts, and for a moment the word just hangs there. “Say my name,” he blurts. 

Derek keeps staring away, towards the sinking sun. “Gemma.” 

“My real name, Derek!” Stiles wants to scream. He wants to throw a fit, like a child, and then he wants to fall into Derek’s arms and be comforted. 

For a moment Derek is silent. Then, still not looking at Stiles, he answers in the saddest voice Stiles has ever heard: “That is your real name.” 

There’s nothing else to say. Stiles backs away a few steps, watching to make sure Derek isn’t about to chase after him. He keeps the wolfsbane held out like a weapon. Derek finally turns and their eyes meet again. Derek’s are burning now, filled with something Stiles can’t recognize. Hatred, sorrow, love, fear. Maybe a mix of it all. 

Stiles can’t look at him for another second. He turns, gripping the wolfsbane tight. 

And he runs.


	6. Chapter 6

Stiles runs so blindly away from Derek that he loses his way within minutes. He has to fight his way back to something familiar, panicking as the sun starts to set. The corset feels like it gets tighter and tighter and it’s so hard to get a full breath. 

He doesn’t hear any howling or growling. Derek doesn’t seem to be hunting him. But his skin stands up on edge, knowing that Derek is somewhere in here with him. 

Then it starts to rain. First just a drizzle, then, as the sun finally sinks, a full-on downpour. Stiles can feel mascara trickling down his face as he stumbles over rocks and branches. 

He hates this. He hates this so much. He just wants to be warm and dry. He finds himself thinking longingly of the pink chenille robe Derek had gifted him last week. 

Finally, when it’s so dark he can’t see his hand in front of his face, he finds his way out. He’s on a road. It’s barely lit and he cries a little as he limps along, terrified that something is about to jump out at him and drag him away. When he hears the rumble of a car engine he panics and runs back into the woods, hiding until they’re gone. The idea of someone he doesn’t know seeing him terrifies him. What if they thought he was a girl? 

Luckily nobody else comes after that, and he finally finds his street. As he walks towards it he realizes he’s shaking uncontrollably. He wipes at his face to clear off the remnants of makeup but knows that won’t do much good. 

The lights are on in his house. He can see through the window into the kitchen. His father is there, sitting at the table. There’s a boy with him. All Stiles can see is his dark hair and lean, strong build. He blinks, confused for a moment. It's as though a copy of himself has moved into his home. 

Then someone else steps into view. Melissa McCall. She’s putting food down at the table, pausing to put a hand on the sheriff’s shoulder. 

It must be Scott at the table. Stiles and Scott have been trying to get their parents together for years. Is that what’s going on here? 

They look…like a family. It looks like the sheriff is sitting there with his son. A _real_ son. He’d hardly wasted any time before replacing Stiles. 

How can he walk in there now? How can he stare his best friend and Melissa in the face like this? He feels _pitiful_ —small and weak and pathetic. Even as he thinks that, he can hear Derek’s voice in the back of his head, assuring him that he’s so beautiful; so special. But only as a girl. Only as _his_ girl. 

He’s being ridiculous. Of course he has to go in. That’s his father. He won’t judge Stiles for what’s happened to him. That line of thinking is just a symptom of what Derek’s done to him. He knows that. 

Still he stands there, agonized, trying to make up his mind. 

He waits too long. 

An arm locks around his neck, crushing his windpipe. He feels himself being dragged backwards, away from the streetlights. He struggles but the arm only tightens, so that he can’t even scream. 

As his vision goes dark, his gaze locks on the sight of his dad through the window. He’s put his face into his hands and his shoulders are shaking, as Melissa and Scott crowd around. They’re comforting him. He’s crying. That’s why they’re there—because his dad misses Stiles so much, he can’t be alone. His dad just wants him home, and now Stiles has lost his chance to get there. 

X 

He jolts back to reality. His heart is hammering through his chest, as if his body has been aware of danger the whole time he’s been asleep. He tries to move, but realizes he’s tied down. 

_What happened?_ He remembers running…the rain…the darkness…and then he had gotten to his house. He remembers seeing his dad and Scott and Melissa through the window and not wanting to go in. And then—nothing. 

Had he run away? Had he gone inside? There’s just a big blank in his mind. He starts to whimper in terror as his brain turns up absolutely nothing. 

“Sh, sh, sh,” he hears someone whisper, and when he opens his eyes he sees Derek. 

“Derek,” he gasps. He jerks, looking down to see that his wrists are handcuffed to the side of a small rollaway cot. They’re in the house. He thinks they’re in the downstairs living room. “What—what are you—” 

“It’s okay, baby.” Derek’s voice sounds funny. Congested or something. He’s stroking Stiles’ hair with a trembling hand. “Everything’s going to be okay now.” 

Stiles swallows a sob. “Why—why am I tied down?” 

“Because you’re sick, angel. You’re very sick. But the doctor is here to help you. He’s going to make you all better and then we can be happy again.” Derek’s voice breaks a little and he swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he tries to get himself under control. 

“I’m not sick. I’m not…” Stiles lifts his head so he can see the rest of his body. He’s in a paper-thin blue gown like a woman would wear at the hospital. It’s been rucked up almost to his belly button. He can see that his legs have been spread and his penis has been carefully lifted, tied at the base so it’s out of the way. There’s something he can feel around his balls, like a clamp at the top of each. 

Terror surges through him. “ _What are you doing?_

“They’re making you sick. They have to go. Sh, Gemma, that’s enough!” Derek holds him down by the shoulders as he thrashes. “You…you did something terrible, baby. Because those _things_ are confusing you. They made you try to hurt me.” 

“ _No!_ ” 

“It has to be this way, sweetheart. It just has to. Or I can’t trust you again. Don’t you see? After what you did…” Derek shuts his eyes, taking several moments to control himself. “You can’t be with me unless I know you can be trusted. And I…I can’t lose you. So it has to be this way.” 

“No!” Stiles is sobbing, completely out of control. “No, Derek, please, you can’t, I’ll never forgive you, please, please—” 

“You’ll feel better when it’s over. Then you won’t be confused anymore. You’ll see what I see. Sh, just relax now.” Derek holds him tightly as he struggles. “The doctor is already here. He’s getting everything ready. You’ll go to sleep soon, and when you wake up it’ll be all over. I’ll take such good care of you. You can stay in bed while you recover and I’ll get you anything you want.” 

“Please, Derek. Please.” Stiles’ mind whirls frantically. He can’t think of a single word to save himself. Derek holds him, stroking his hair, keeping him pinned down. 

“It’s time to go to sleep now, baby. I’ll be right here with you the whole time.” 

“No!” The words he needs finally come to him, spilling out before he can really think them through. “If you do this, we can never have children!” 

Derek goes still. “What are you talking about?” 

“Upstairs…in the folders. There’s a spell. With that special tree, and the full moon…it’s been done before, Derek. So a male can alpha can mate with a man and they have still have children together. But it needs the man to still be whole. You can’t do this, Derek. We need them to stay.” 

“No,” Derek whispers. “No more lies, Gemma. Please.” 

“I’m not lying! Go upstairs and find it. It’s in the brown folder, in the oldest box. In the middle of the folders. The alpha’s name is Thayer. Derek, I swear. Please just look.” Stiles sees the doubt on his face and barrels ahead. “If you love me…please go look.” 

Derek evaluates him for a minute, then stands without a word and leaves the room. Every second feels like an eternity as Stiles waits, fruitlessly twisting his hands to try and get them free from the handcuffs. 

When Derek returns, he’s holding the folder. He walks past Stiles without a word, going into the other room where the doctor must be waiting. Stiles listens hard, but he can’t hear anything. 

He tries again to remember how he got here. Surely he hadn’t decided to return. But Derek hadn’t been chasing him in the woods. Had he gone in to see his dad? Had his dad _rejected_ him? 

The horrible thoughts are interrupted when a man walks into the room. Stiles knows this guy—Scott works for him over at the vet. _Deaton_. His mouth falls open. _This_ is the emissary? How can he willingly participate in this? 

Then he looks past Deaton. Derek has come into the room behind him. He looks transported. The expression on his face is so blissful it’s like he’s being illuminated from the inside. 

“Yes,” Deaton says, voice clinical. “I think the procedure described therein would be simple enough to complete. It will be a bit of a rush to have everything ready by the next full moon, but if you insist that’s when it has to be—” 

“I do. I want it as soon as possible.” Derek bends down to uncuff Stiles’ hand, lovingly bringing it up to kiss the bruised wrist. “You can make sure we have privacy at the Nemeton?” 

“Of course.” 

“Derek?” Stiles asks tremulously as Derek uncuffs his other hand. 

“Sh, princess. Everything’s all right. Everything’s wonderful.” Derek kisses his forehead gently, sitting down carefully on the side of the cot so he can hold Stiles. “I want you _practicing,”_ he tells Deaton sternly. “You need to know exactly what you’re doing. I won’t let you touch her if you can’t make sure she’s safe. And if she comes back to me anything less than perfect, you’ll be losing _your_ balls.” 

Deaton looks thoroughly bored with Derek’s threat. “You don’t need to worry. I’ll take care of her.” 

It should feel like a knife in the heart, hearing Deaton refer to him as a girl so casually, but Stiles’ mind is so jumbled with other thoughts he barely even notices. 

He feels relieved that he isn’t going to lose his balls today, but also fear and horror at the thought of what’s coming. He closes his eyes, fighting back tears, and presses his face into Derek’s lap just for a bit of comfort. 

X 

Derek is going to be a father. 

It’s like he’s floating on air, miles above the grief that consumed him for so long. He can’t believe that this is really going to happen. 

It won’t be for a while yet, of course. He wants Gemma to be completely settled in before they bring a child into the pack. But God, his heart is already aching with longing. His pack is alive again. He’s going to have a whole litter of pups, looking up to him, filling his house with laughter and love. 

He’s upstairs with Gemma. He has her in his arms and is stroking her hair while his thoughts dance off in wonderful directions. He imagines her in a rocking chair, holding their baby. She’s going to be the perfect mother. 

It must have been shocking for her, realizing what her future held. That must have been why she did something so terrible. He comforts himself by remembering that she hadn’t actually tried to hurt him—she had just tried to run. He will forgive that. He has to. Deaton has already destroyed the wolfsbane patch. They can forget it ever happened. 

She’s quiet. Ever since she came back she’s seemed a little fragile. It must have been terribly stressful for her. He’s proud of her for telling him the truth before the procedure could happen and ruin everything. 

“Derek?” she whispers after a long period of silence. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Of course, sweetheart.” 

“Did I…did I come back here on my own tonight?” 

Derek doesn’t answer for several seconds. She must not remember what happened. He had found her just before she’d gone inside that house and dragged her back home over his shoulder, but clearly her memory stops way before that. 

“Yes, you did,” he says gently. “I came home after our fight in the woods. I was alone here for a few hours before you came back. You were so upset, baby. I don’t know what happened out there, but you were just hysterical. I helped you go to sleep and called the doctor for you.” 

It’s a much nicer way to remember tonight. Maybe he can even make himself believe it. 

Her face is so tortured. It breaks his heart. “But I…I don’t remember that at all.” 

“Because you were so upset. My poor girl.” He squeezes her tightly. “It’s over now. We don’t need to ever think about it again.” Maternity clothes. That’s what he wants to think about now. His perfect wife in flowing blouses and dresses, cupping her belly in her hands. She’ll be so delicate in that position. Werewolf pups are so strong, even before they’re born. She’ll hardly be able to sleep once they start kicking. He’ll make sure she has the best prenatal care, of course. 

He’ll give her the best of everything. That’s what she gives him, after all, and she doesn’t even have to try. 

X 

Stiles can’t remember if he came back willingly or not. 

He spends the night tossing and turning, trying to remember. He searches every corner of his mind, hoping against hope something will come back to him. All he can remember is staring through the window, seeing his dad there with his new family and feeling so betrayed. 

He’d been so close. How could Derek had grabbed him there? 

But the idea that he had actually come back to Derek—that he had walked away from his father because of what he saw through the window—doesn’t make any sense either. 

He realizes that it’s going to drive him insane. Wondering if Derek’s story is true. Searching for the memory in his mind. He has to decide what the truth is, one way or another. 

And if he believes Derek was the one who dragged him back, that he came so close to freedom, and then Derek snatched it away… 

That would kill him. 

So he has to believe that he came back. He has to believe it was his choice. 

Derek coddles him in the days that follow. He makes all the meals again, bringing them up so Stiles can eat in the bedroom. The folders disappear without a word—Derek must have realized he found the wolfsbane pictures in there—but Derek makes a trip to the library and brings him home a dozen books. He covers just about every genre, but slips in several of those dumb, cheap romances. Stiles reads them, but he has to skip most of the sex scenes. They make him feel too weird. Derek tells him they have to keep the cock cage “to be safe,” and Stiles can’t find the strength to argue. 

Derek, meanwhile, is bustling around busily. He’s renovating his old bedroom. He never tells Stiles exactly what he’s doing, but Stiles knows: he’s making a nursery. 

“Come here,” he says one day, beckoning Stiles over to look at his laptop. “Let’s pick out furniture together.” Stiles goes, sitting on Derek’s lap without even thinking. He’s looking at rocking chairs. There’s so many different styles, from the type of wood to the type of cushion. 

They’re also expensive as hell, but Derek doesn’t mind. 

“You’ll be sitting in this a lot,” he says softly, curling one of the longest strands of Stiles’ hair around his finger. “Rocking the babies to sleep…calming them when they’re crying…nursing…” 

Stiles shivers, remembering that part of the file. The emissary had drawn in a picture of what the man looked like during his first pregnancy. His chest had swollen up with milk, and barely shrunk once the pup was weaned. 

“He knows he shouldn’t, but he whispers: “It…it might not work, you know. The magic might just…not be there.” 

“It will work,” Derek says with complete confidence. “You’re going to be so beautiful, baby. So perfect.” His hand slips under the waist of Stiles’ skirt and into his panties, his thumb pressing against the base of Stiles’ cock. It makes Stiles jump. His touches over the past few days have only been gentle and loving, never exploring inside the lace panties or tiny little bra Stiles is still wearing. 

“I can’t wait to touch you here,” he murmurs now. “To put my mouth on you and hear what sounds you make. Just to break it in, though. I’ve already trained your cunt so well. That’s still mine. _This_ is just for the babies.” 

“Babies?” Stiles says weakly. “Multiple?” 

“Of course. I want a big family, don’t you? And alphas often spawn twins or triplets. Imagine how gorgeous you’ll look with two or three pups squirming in your belly.” Derek’s voice is layered with longing and satisfaction. He kisses Stiles gently on the forehead, making him shiver again. 

“I’m cold,” he says, a little tremulously, and in an instant Derek is draping a blanket around him solicitously. Derek has been so sweet over the past few days. Stiles keeps expecting a punishment for what he did in the woods, but clearly Derek has decided to forgive him. That, or he’s just trying to butter Stiles up. “The doctor is coming back here this afternoon,” he tells Stiles as he tucks the blanket carefully around his shoulders. “He needs to give you a checkup before next week’s procedure.” 

“No, Derek. I don’t want him here!” Stiles can’t stand to see Deaton again. He feels so outnumbered, knowing that there are two people insisting that he’s a girl, that he belongs to Derek… 

“It’s very important that he makes sure you’re healthy. I’ll be right there with you princess, there’s no need to be afraid.” 

Stiles’ anxiety raises throughout the day. When Deaton finally arrives and Derek is ushering him into the bedroom Stiles can barely even stand on his own. He presses his face into Derek’s shirt imploringly, shaking against the warmth of his chest. 

“She’s feeling a little shy,” he hears Derek explain softly to Deaton. “Gemma, you’re all right. The doctor is here to help you.” 

“I can’t,” Stiles whimpers. “Please don’t make me, Derek.” 

Derek’s arms come around him comfortingly. Then Derek is lifting him, carrying him over to the bed. Stiles thrashes, but Derek holds firm, carefully lowering him down. 

“I need everything off,” Deaton says in his calm voice. “Even the corset.” 

“Hold still for me, sweetheart,” Derek whispers in his ear. He strips off Stiles’ clothing, turning him over on his front so he can unlace the corset. Stiles fights for a few moments, but eventually he just goes limp. What’s the use of fighting? It’s going to happen regardless. Derek even takes off the cock cage, pausing to give his poor, trapped skin a gentle kiss. 

“All right, Gemma,” Deaton says, pulling on gloves. “I’m going to give you a full examination. Can you hold still for me? It’s very important.” Stiles nods because he has to. He wants to shut his eyes, but that feels pathetic. Deaton touches him around his stomach and ribcage, squeezing clinically, commenting approvingly to Derek about how well the corset has been working. Then, without warning, he’s squeezing at Stiles’ chest. Stiles cries out from the surprise and from how strong the sensations are on his sensitive skin. 

“Easy,” Deaton murmurs. “Derek, why don’t you hold her hand? Keep her calm.” 

Derek’s hand comes around Stiles’ like a vice. “Development here should happen very naturally once she’s been bred,” Deaton says to Derek as he finishes his examination there. “As I’ve said before, just make sure there’s no unusual discharge coming from her nipples. Continue to wear a bra so she doesn’t start to sag.” Stiles flushes so red he’s surprised the doctor doesn’t comment on it. Deaton switches out gloves. “I’m going to touch your clit now, Gemma. Please lift your legs for me. Bend your knees with your feet on the bed.” 

“Derek,” Stiles whines, turning to the werewolf with his most imploring eyes. Derek is so _possessive_ that he’s hopeful he’ll put a stop to this, but Derek just shakes his head. 

“Listen to the doctor, Gemma.” 

Stiles reluctantly bends his knees. Deaton frowns at his penis clinically, pressing against the base with his fingers. “It’s quite small,” he murmurs to Derek. ‘But I think there’s enough to work with here.” 

Stiles looks between his own legs, ready to be outraged, but there’s nothing he can say. It _is_ small, small and withered-looking after being locked up in that horrible cock cage. 

“You can stop using the cage,” Deaton tells Derek. “You should feel comfortable engaging in as much sexual activity as you’d like over the next few days. We don’t want the first knotting to be a shock to her system.” 

“I’ve been stretching her,” Derek says defensively. 

“Let’s take a look at that.” Deaton reaches into his bag and pulls out a wicked-looking device Stiles has never seen before. “Gemma, dear, this is a speculum. I’m going to use it to take a look inside of you. Can you turn over onto your stomach, please?” 

Derek is already moving to “help,” lifting Stiles up so he has no choice but to turn over. He feels the speculum entering his hole and then _opening_ stretching him wide. It isn’t terribly painful, but it just feels so weird. He tries to press his legs together instinctively and Deaton clucks. 

“Derek, come to the front of the bed and hold her legs, please.” 

“No!” Stiles can’t stand the thought of Derek holding him like that, totally preventing him from moving while Deaton pokes around. “I…I need you to hold my hand, Derek. I’ll stay still.” 

“Oh, sweetheart. All right, I’m here. Don’t be scared.” Derek kisses his knuckles, keeping a tight grip on him. Stiles holds as still as possible. He feels Deaton’s fingers inside of him, making little murmurs of satisfaction. 

“You’ve stretched her very well, Derek. Continue to do so until you’re sure she can handle your knot. And be sure you know how to find the spot that gives her the most pleasure. Here—” He stretches deeper, finally finding Stiles’ prostate and pressing. Stiles jerks, moaning without meaning to. 

“Ah, she’s very sensitive there. You want to be sure she can come on your knot. Multiple times throughout the course of the knotting would be best. I’ll be taking her to the procedure as soon as you’re uncoupled, so we want her muscles as relaxed as possible.” Deaton’s fingers disappear and the speculum is removed. Stiles sits up, trying to hide his body as if Deaton hasn’t just had a very intimate look at it. 

“You’re very healthy for a girl your age, Gemma,” Deaton tells him. “And I don’t want you to feel worried at all about next week’s procedure. I’m going to make sure it all turns out beautifully.” 

Stiles nods. He doesn’t want to look at the doctor, so he turns his head and finds himself staring directly into Derek’s warm, loving eyes. Derek beams at him, reaching out to cup his cheek. “See?” he whispers. “You’re perfect.” 

X 

The hours and days pass in a blur after that. Stiles mostly feels numb. He does whatever Derek asks of him, listening as Derek fills his head with stories and promises of how wonderful their lives together will be. At night he has strange dreams. In one of them he’s holding a baby, laughing ad cooing down at him. When he wakes up he’s so full of longing he has to scrunch himself into a little ball to batter the feelings away. The next day he goes inside the nursery Derek is creating, leaning against the door to stare in, imagining the crib and rocking chair and changing table. 

Derek’s arms suddenly come around him from behind. His hands rest against Stiles’ belly almost wonderingly, tracing over his skin as if he’s trying to will their child into existence. “I loved you before I even knew you,” he whispers into Stiles’ ear. “And I love our pups that way, too.” 

Stiles closes his eyes. He tips back his head without meaning to and Derek kisses his forehead. 

The days pass like that. After all the drama of the past two months, the fighting and struggling and shouting and pleading, things almost seem calm. Quiet. A sense of expectation seems to be hanging over the place. 

And then— 

It’s the night of the full moon.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this took so long to post! I hope it's worth the wait :)

When Stiles wakes up on the morning of the full moon Derek is already leaning over him, nuzzling against his neck. He takes Stiles’ arm, rubbing his nose from the crook of his elbow to his wrist and inhaling deeply. 

It’s the full moon, Stiles knows. It makes him extra wolfy. That doesn’t even freak him out anymore. 

“Morning, beautiful,” Derek whispers. He presses a kiss into Stiles’ palm and sits up. Stiles yawns hugely and Derek grins, eyes soft with adoration. “I love the way you look in the morning. You’re lucky I don’t just keep you in bed all the time.” 

_You used to_ , Stiles thinks, but doesn’t say. He sits up instead, combing through his hair with his fingers. It’s long enough now that it gets all tangled overnight. “I’m hungry,” he says through another yawn. 

“Let’s go have breakfast. You’ll need your strength for tonight.” 

Stiles swallows and doesn’t answer. He’s squashed all thoughts of tonight under a heavy blanket of denial and he isn’t ready to break that quite yet. 

Downstairs Stiles makes breakfast while Derek, as always, watches him from the counter. Stiles can feel his eyes travel all over Stiles’ body, lingering at the curve of his hips. When Stiles bends, he feels the corset press into his skin. He musters up enough courage to ask: “After tonight, do I have to keep wearing this?” 

“Your corset? No, babe, I don’t think so. It’s already worked so well, we shouldn’t need it anymore.” Derek’s voice is proud. Stiles flips the eggs, thinking about how nice it’ll feel to not have to wear this stupid thing anymore. No difficulty taking deep breaths, no thousand strings to undo just so he can take a shower…no barrier between his skin and Derek’s hands whenever Derek wants to touch him. 

He finishes the food and plates it. Derek grabs them from him neatly and nods back towards the stairs. “Let’s have breakfast in bed. There’s something I want to show you.” 

When they get back to the bedroom Derek starts to fiddle with the television again. Stiles feels his chest tighten, wondering if Derek is about to show him another video of himself to so he can see what Derek sees, but when the screen flickers to life Stiles sees people he doesn’t recognize. 

“These are my home videos,” Derek explains as he climbs back into bed next to Stiles. “They were in our safe when the house burned. I used to watch them over and over again, after the fire. I thought you should see what the pack used to be, now that you’re helping me restart it.” 

On the screen, the camera is focused on a heavily pregnant woman in a rocking chair. “Here she is,” a man’s voice says from behind the camera. “Talia is eight months pregnant today…” 

“My mom and dad,” Derek explains, settling in against the headboard and tugging Stiles close against his chest. He holds a piece of bacon out and Stiles eats it automatically, staring at the TV. 

“Why are you filming me?” Talia asks, hands resting on top her stomach. 

“Because you’re beautiful.” The camera fuzzes out as Derek’s father leans in for a kiss. 

“I’m _fat_.” 

“You’re perfect.” A strong, tanned hand comes to join Talia’s on top of her belly. “What’s he up to in there?” 

“He _was_ sleeping, but…” Talia sighs. “There he goes.” 

Sure enough, Stiles can see Talia’s stomach moving. “Oh, hey!” Derek’s dad says in delight. He pulls up Talia’s shirt and Stiles sees a little foot pressing against the skin. “Hi, little guy. Are you saying hello?” 

“Stop egging him on!” Talia complains. “Oh, my God, he’s bigger than Laura was. You’re never getting another son on me, James.” 

“Don’t be silly. We need lots of sons, and daughters, so we can have a strong pack. Isn’t that right?” James laughs as the baby keeps kicking. “See, babe? He agrees. Your pack can’t wait to meet you, kiddo. We love you so much—” 

The screen blacks out for a second and then Stiles sees a baby, just a few months old, lying on a playmat and beaming up at the camera. “Derek is in a very good mood this morning,” Talia’s voice says behind the camera. “Isn’t that right, sweetie?” 

The baby shrieks with delight and reaches up towards the camera. Stiles has no experience with babies, but even he can tell that Derek is uncommonly adorable. His mouth is open in a wide, drooly grin, eyes tracking his mother’s face as though she holds the secrets to the universe. 

“Derek slept all through the night,” Talia continues. “And that means Laura slept all through the night, and that means Mommy and Daddy slept all through the night. So we’re all very happy today!” 

“Hi Mommy,” a little voice says from offscreen. A cherubic toddler pads into view, thumb in her mouth. She plops down on the floor next to Baby Derek and curls around him. “Dewwek missed me,” she explains as she pats Derek’s tummy. 

“Aww,” Talia says. “Look at my babies.” 

“ _My_ baby,” Laura corrects her, smacking a kiss on the baby’s cheek. Next to Stiles, Derek laughs softly. He’s staring at the screen, as enraptured as if he’s never seen this before, the food forgotten in his lap. On the TV Talia laughs too as Baby Derek coos happily and snuggles against his sister. 

The home movies continue. Baby Derek becomes a toddler, and Talia is pregnant again, and there’s another adorable werewolf baby. Somebody is always laughing or reaching out for a hug and kiss. In one scene, Derek is racing after Laura when he trips and falls spectacularly on his bottom. Immediately he starts wailing and James, Talia, and Laura all race to comfort him. 

It was always like that for him, Stiles realizes. Always someone there to hold him and comfort him and pick him up when he fell. He was never alone—until the fire. 

There are more babies. More holidays. More scenes of love and happiness. Derek is really good with the younger kids. In one scene he organizes the “Hale Pack Olympics” and helps his little sister Cora win by grabbing her and racing her across the finish line. “Gold medal to Cora,” he intones, swooping her towards the camera. “Beating out Peter _by a hair…_ ” 

Cora laughs delightedly and hugs her brother around the neck. Then there’s a Christmas scene. A birthday. A fight between two of the Hale children that James finally resolves: “We don’t bring anger into the pack,” he lectures. “We take care of each other here. In this pack, we protect each other. That’s the most important thing.” Next to Stiles, Derek mouths these words along with his father, seemingly not even realizing he’s doing it. 

Stiles’ chest is tight. Derek is a teenager onscreen now. They must be coming to the end of things. The boy on the screen is going to be alone, broken in mind and heart and watching his old life play out on the TV over and over and over. 

In the next scene, Laura is holding the camera. She’s teasing Derek about his “secret girlfriend.” “We haven’t been able to meet her yet,” she explains. “But Derek is in _loooove_.” 

“Stop it,” Derek whines. 

“Yes, stop it,” Talia echoes, walking past them and leaning in to flick Laura’s ear. “It’s a beautiful thing. You better be treating this special girl right, Derek.” 

“Oh my God, Mom!” The camera tightens in on Derek’s embarrassed face. And then…nothing. The screen is black. 

“And I would restart it,” Derek says quietly. “Every single day, before you came along.” 

Stiles swears his heart is breaking. The thought of Derek like that, so alone and sad…it isn’t fair. He didn’t deserve that. 

Hesitantly, he reaches up to Derek’s cheek. He brushes Derek’s jawline with his thumb, feeling the rough stubble there. He really hasn’t done this before—touched Derek without any prompting. Derek closes his eyes and nuzzles into his touch. 

Stiles thinks about the relationship he’d seen on screen between James and Talia. They were almost always touching, unable to keep their hands off each other, radiating love and comfort to their children. Stiles imagines what Talia’s life must have been like. She had been so _loved_ by everyone. Safe, adored, warm and happy… 

“Gemma,” Derek whispers, eyes intense into Stiles’ as though he can read his mind. “My beautiful girl. I’ll love you forever, I promise. I’ll always keep you safe.” 

“I know,” Stiles whispers back. He moves in hesitantly and Derek closes the gap, kissing him until he’s breathless. 

X 

Later, after lunch, Derek comes to kneel beside where Stiles is sitting near the bed. ‘I have a present for you,” he says. “Come with me.” 

Stiles follows Derek out of the bedroom and down the hall. Derek opens the door to one of the rooms Stiles hasn’t seen before. “I did this while you thought I was working on the nursery,” he explains. “It isn’t done, but I wanted you to see it now.” 

Stiles steps through the door and looks around. Derek has installed shelves all over the walls, from the floor to the ceiling. Most of them are empty, but on some of them there are books. Crappy dime-store paperbacks, hardbacks so old the lettering has worn off, magazines, new-looking books with bright-colored covers… 

“I wanted you to have a library,” Derek explains, putting his arm around Stiles’ waist. “That’s where I first saw you, you know. I wanted so badly to just go over to you then, but I couldn’t. I love the idea of giving you a library where I can watch you every day, knowing you're mine." 

Stiles looks around the room, swallowing back a lump in his throat. Derek made him a library. It isn’t finished, or anywhere near perfect, but Derek did it for him. 

He wonders what would have happened if Derek _had_ come up to him that day in the library. If he had explained that he could show Stiles a whole new side to the world, full of magic and wonder, if Stiles only went with him. 

“Do you like it? Gemma?” 

Immediately the fantasy collapses. If Derek had come up to him, Stiles would have thought he was crazy. This was the only way it could ever have happened—for Derek to take him like this. 

“I like it,” he whispers. “Thank you.” 

“Anything for you, princess.” Derek kisses him again, deeper this time. Stiles can feel his erection, and he swallows, remembering the pictures of the knottings he’d seen in that book. It’s just a few hours away… 

“Baby,” Derek whispers. “I can smell when you’re turned on. You have to stop that, or I’m not going to be able to wait until tonight.” 

Stiles blushes furiously. He _shouldn’t_ be turned on—but his body never listens to him anymore. It’s an alien thing, tuned to Derek’s desires in every way. “Sorry.” 

“I need a cold shower. You mind waiting until I’m done?” 

“That’s fine.” Stiles wants some time alone. He needs to gather his thoughts. 

He waits in the bedroom while Derek goes to take his shower. As soon as the water starts running, he slips out of the bedroom and down the stairs. There’s a strange, peaceful feeling to the house. As if everything and everybody are waiting expectantly for something important to happen. 

What _is_ going to happen? Is he going to let Derek knot him and take him to Deaton, to be changed forever? Or should he try fighting, one last time? 

He opens the door to the outside and just stares out at the woods. He could make a run for it again. But he’s already returned here once before. And now all he can think about is how miserable Derek would be without him. 

And really, how could he ever go back to normal? He couldn’t. H could never be in another relationship with anyone else again, not with the memory of Derek haunting him every day. He would never be sure who or what he really was—boy or girl; a werewolf’s mate or just plain old Stiles. 

If he leaves, he wins over Derek. But somehow, that just doesn’t seem very important anymore. It feels like, ultimately, he’d still be losing. 

He hears footsteps coming down the stairs. “Baby? What are you doing?” 

Stiles looks over his shoulder and sees Derek, a towel wrapped around his waist, hair beaded with water. The sight makes his stomach swoop pleasantly. “Just getting some fresh air,” he says, stepping back and closing the door. 

Derek surveys him for another minute. He holds out his hand, and Stiles walks over to him, letting him grasp Stiles’ hand tightly. “Let’s get you in the shower,” Derek says gently, and Stiles nods, following him upstairs. 

X 

Stiles showers and dries his hair. He spends a long time doing his makeup—his hands keep shaking, ruining everything he’s putting on, and he has to start over. Eventually, he just goes simple: a little color in his cheeks, some eyeshadow, some lipstick. The stuff he likes. The stuff that makes him feel…pretty. 

Derek is mostly quiet, leaving him to his thoughts. When Stiles finally emerges from the bathroom, there’s a white dress laid out on the bed. It’s lacy, and kind of old-looking, but undeniably beautiful. “I wish you could wear my mother’s dress,” Derek tells him softly. “But it was ruined in the fire. I found this one in the vintage shop and it kind of looked like hers.” 

He helps Stiles put it on. It falls so perfectly around his body, clinging to the new lines of his torso. Derek hasn’t gotten out any underwear for him and Stiles shivers at the way three dress feels around his ass and front. Derek kisses him, slipping his hand over his thigh, brushing against his cock with his fingers and making Stiles gasp. 

“You’re so ready for me, aren’t you, beautiful?” Derek whispers. “Tell me. I want to hear you say how much you want me.” 

Stiles takes a deep breath. He’s already decided. No running. No fighting. This is happening. “I want you to knot me, Derek. I want you to knot my…my cunt.” 

“Good girl,” Derek breathes. “I will, sweetheart. I’ll give you just what you need.” He takes Stiles’ hand. “It’s time to go now, Gemma.” 

Stiles follows him downstairs as if he’s moving through a dream. The moon is high in the sky, so he can see Derek perfectly. Derek wraps an arm around him when they enter the woods, to help him maneuver over logs and roots, and Stiles is grateful. He likes when Derek leads the way like this, giving Stiles no choice but to be swept along with him. It makes things easier. 

“Here it is,” Derek whispers eventually. Stiles stares up at the Nemeton—a tree he’d seen described in the files Derek had given him, but awesome to behold in real life. The spawning root system is huge, covered in moss and seeming to pulse with a life of its own. 

“Is Deaton here?” Stiles whispers. 

“He’s waiting by the road. I told him we needed privacy. We’ll go to him when we’re finished here.” Derek cups his cheek gently. “I’m going to undress you now. Are you ready?” Stiles nods. Derek tugs up the dress, careful not to smudge Stiles’ makeup. He throws it aside like it’s a rag and puts his arm behind Stiles’ back so he can lower him carefully to the ground. There’s no bra, no panties, no corset. Stiles is completely naked on the Nemeton’s roots, like some kind of virgin sacrifice. From his pocket, Derek takes out a small stoppered bottle. The Nemoton sap. 

“Hold still, Gemma.” 

Stiles feels the cold, sticky sap against his sensitive skin. He gasps, hips rising off the ground, and Derek hushes him. A quiet little voice in Stiles’ head cries out that he’s missing his last chance. If this magic is real, he only has moments left to make a run for it before everything chances. 

Then, as Derek administers the last of the sap, that strange pulse he’d felt from the roots suddenly seems to switch direction, coursing into _him_ as if Derek has just closed an electrical circuit. It’s such a strong, powerful feeling that all other thoughts are driven from his head. 

_You are the Alpha’s mate_ , another, stronger voice whispers in his mind. _You will bear his children, stay by his side, love him with all your heart…_

Derek is moving him, turning him onto his stomach. His hand slips between his cheeks, fingers pressing against his cunt. Stiles knows how wide he can be stretched there. He wants that stretch, and more. He bucks into Derek’s touch demandingly. 

“Such an impatient girl,” Derek whispers. “It’s coming, sweetheart. My beautiful girl, my perfect mate. You’re mine. Only mine, forever.” 

“Yours,” Stiles repeats frantically. He isn’t sure if it’s the trees magic or something else doing this to him, driving him towards Derek, insisting that the werewolf knot him now, _now,_ NOW. “Your girl, Derek. Your girl, always, always…” 

Derek kisses his hole, then splits him open with two fingers. It’s so easy to get where he needs to be, spreading wide for Derek, hungrily sucking at his fingers and begging for more. Derek is growling a little. When he rubs his cheek against Stiles’ back, he swears it feels harrier than normal, and the thought thrills him. “Derek,” he gasps. “Please…” 

Derek finally puts his whole weight on top of Stiles. Stiles feels him finally press inside, so much bigger and better than anything before. His arms are so tight around Stiles. He moves, setting the rhythm for them both. Stiles can feel his clit leaking, smearing precoma and sap all over the roots. 

When he realizes the knot is starting to form a rush of excitement floods him. He knows he should be scared. But as the knot locks around him, he can’t even remember why. 

X 

Derek’s beautiful, beautiful mate is moaning underneath him, the high breathy sounds of a woman in ecstasy. Derek knows she’s about to come. He clutches her close, waiting to feel every tremor as it rocks her. He comes for the first time, filling her cunt, and feels her shake apart beneath her. He snarls, trying to hold on to his humanity. He can’t wolf out right here and now. He needs to take care of his precious girl. 

His fingers knead at her nipples, the tiny mounds of her breasts, as he comes again. Soon they’ll be the perfect size, overfull with milk to feed his pups. 

When he’d chosen her, a part of him knew it was crazy. That rational part he’d had to hide from his wolf side knew she could never _really_ be what he needed. But now…now she will be. His mate. The mother of his pups. His girl, forever. 

She comes twice in his arms, as they stay locked together. Derek wishes they could stay like this forever—but the next part is so important. He knows it’s going to work. He can feel the Nemeton’s magic surrounding her, recognizing her for what she is, determined to make Derek’s dream a reality. His knot deflates and he slides out of her, mourning the loss of the feeling of being inside her but elated to know he’ll feel it a thousand times more. 

She’s so sex-drunk he knows she can’t walk, so he carries her. She’s shuddering in his arms, as beautiful and fragile as a butterfly. He kisses her forehead. “You were so perfect, Gemma,” he whispers. “I love you so much.” 

Deaton is waiting for them in his car. He helps Derek climb into the back with her. There’s a blanket there, and clothes for Derek, but he ignores it all for now. He doesn’t want there to be anything but him, her only source of warmth and protection. He holds her so close as Deaton drives, brushing her hair away from her damp cheeks. 

When they reach Deaton’s surgery he carries her inside. She starts to shake again as he carefully puts her down on the table. “Derek,” she wheezes. “I’m scared.” 

“I know, baby. You’re going to be fine. I’m right here.” He nods to Deaton as the doctor steps forward with a mask. “You’ll go to sleep now. I’ll see you soon. I love you.” 

She clings to him even as her eyes slip shut. Now that she’s been knotted, she’ll never turn away from him again. It’s a victory—but honestly, it’s kind of a small one. He knows she’s been his for a long time now. 

X 

Stiles opens his eyes. He feels so strange. Like he’s been sleeping for years and years. 

He turns his head sleepily and sees a man sitting by the side of his bed, slumped asleep in the chair. It takes a minute for his thoughts to rearrange themselves—like they’d gotten all shook up while he was sleeping and now he has to put them back where they belong. Derek. This is Derek sitting by him. 

“Derek?” he says. 

Derek jolts awake and looks down at him. “Gemma,” he says, voice scratchy. “How are you feeling, baby?” 

_Gemma._ Is that his name? No…no, his name is Stiles. But Derek calls him Gemma…because… 

It all rushes back. Derek took him, and hid him away, and tied him up. But Derek also kissed him, and gave him presents, and told him how special he was. Those memories feel better than the other ones, so he focuses on them. 

“I’m okay,” he whispers. He remembers what happened in the woods and swallows hard. “Is it…is it over?” 

“Yes. It went perfectly. Do you know how special you are, angel? Only the second person we know of, in the whole world, to ever have been given this gift.” 

A part of Stiles thinks he should scream and cry, refusing to ever forgive Derek for this…but that part feels ignorant and small, like something he left behind a long time ago. Derek’s happiness suddenly seems so important to him—and Derek is so happy right now that it makes Stiles happy, too. 

He looks around. They must be in the basement of Deaton’s surgery or something. He doesn’t like it here. It feels impersonal and unsafe—so close to town where anyone could find them. “Can we go home?” he asks plaintively. 

“After Deaton gives you a checkup. You’ll need to spend a while recuperating.” 

“Can you knot me again?” That’s one memory that isn’t a bit fuzzy. Feeling Derek thrusting inside of him, swelling in his cunt… 

Thinking about it sends a strange jolt through him. Normally he would be hard right now, but instead he just feels kind of nice and tingly low in his belly. He wonders what it would feel like to actually come with this new body—to feel Derek touching him there— 

“Gemma.” Derek laughs at him. “You’re not healed enough for all that yet, baby. Don’t pout at me. Of course I’ll knot you again. But for right now, I’m just going to take care of you. How does that sound, princess? Being spoiled by your mate for a bit?” 

_Mate_. Stiles blushes at the word. It had felt so right last night, feeling the Nemeton’s magic flowing through him…and it still feels right today. “Sounds good,” he whispers, and Derek beams at him. He presses a kiss into Stiles’ palm and then just sits with him, never taking his adoring eyes off of Stiles’ face.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SORRY for the delay on this! Time just got away from me. I finished it off in one chapter so you won't have to wait any more.  
> Thanks to everyone who supported this weird thing!

Stiles only has to stay at Deaton’s for one day before he’s finally allowed to go home. He’s so relieved when Derek finally carries him outside to the car. Deaton has been nice but he doesn’t want anyone but Derek taking care of him. 

They have to drive through town to get home. Derek sits in the backseat and Stiles lays down with his head in Derek’s lap so no one will see him through the window. 

He hasn’t looked at himself yet. Whenever Deaton has examined him he’s just tightly held Derek’s hand, trying not to think too much about what he’s feeling down there. It’s a little sore, but not too bad. 

He feels like he hasn’t quite grasped it fully yet—what it really means. Every time his thoughts stray towards it, it’s like he gets snagged by Derek, pulled back to a feeling of contentment. As long as Derek’s happy, it feels like he would be foolish to be upset. 

The car is practically moving at a crawl, and Stiles squirms a little, wishing they could be home right now. “Alan, can you hurry?” Derek murmurs, gently smoothing Stiles’ hair. “Gemma gets anxious in public.” 

Stiles wonders what he means by that—if it’s just something he’s invented, so he can pretend Stiles’ anxiousness is the reason he never leaves the house, or if he noticed it back when he used to watch Stiles. Stiles _did_ get anxious in public. He always hated crowds. It felt like people must be staring at him. 

Turns out someone _was_. He thinks about Derek watching him, following him, fantasizing about him… His stomach flip-flops a little, not unpleasantly. He’d always felt like people were watching him because they thought he was awkward or ugly. But Derek was watching him because he thought he was…special. 

_Beautiful_. 

He wriggles to get a little more comfortable and finds himself staring at the bulge in Derek’s pants. A tingle zips through him as he remembers when Derek knotted him—that feeling of _closeness_ , of safety and adoration. He leans forward a little and bumps against Derek with his nose, gently pressing against the bulge. 

Derek jumps a little. He looks down at Stiles, eyes widening, a grin tugging at his lips. Stiles grins back and bumps against him again, a little more deliberately this time. 

“You dirty girl,” Derek whispers, so only Stiles hear. He widens his legs a little to give Stiles more room to nuzzle at him. Stiles lets his lips touch Derek’s jeans, wishing he could strip them off right here. 

Maybe, if he works hard, he can get Derek to come in his pants. The thought sends a strange throb of lust through him, the feeling intensifying as he imagines sucking the come out of the stiff denim, pressing his lips tight against Derek as the orgasm rolls through him… 

Deaton turns off the main street to drive up to the Hale house. The sight of trees crowding around their windows should make Stiles feel lonely or claustrophobic, but instead he feels comforted. The woods don’t seem as scary to him all of a sudden. Maybe it’s because he was knotted by Derek out there. 

When Deaton stops in front of the house Derek carefully lifts Stiles from the car, carrying him like a bride towards the house. “I can walk,” Stiles protests weakly. 

“You _could_ ,” Derek says agreeably, before giving his ass a teasing little smack and continuing on. He shoulders open the door and Stiles gasps. He…he can _smell_ the house, suddenly. It smells like Derek, and like him, their scents commingled. It immediately invokes a sense of safety and warmth and _home_. 

“Gemma?” Derek asks softly. “What are you thinking, baby?” 

“I…I can smell…the house is different.” Stiles isn’t sure how to put the new sensation into words. 

“It’s because you’re my mate now. You’ve changed so much for me, sweetheart. Your instincts, your senses…they’re all different now. You’re so perfect. So incredibly, amazingly perfect.” Derek kisses him and Stiles clings to him, deepening the kiss, frantic to be close to the Alpha. To _his Alpha._

“Baby girl,” Derek croons. He rubs his thumb over the edge of Stiles’ belly. “I can’t wait to make you feel so good here, sweetheart. Let’s get you in bed now.” 

Stiles clings to him as Derek carries him upstairs. He loves the idea of their bed…it’ll be so warm, smelling just like the both of them. When they reach the bedroom Derek tucks him in tenderly. “You can’t go running around for a while, princess. I’ll just take care of you for until you’re all healed up, okay?” 

Stiles nods and Derek beams at him. “Good girl.” His voice turns teasing and he strokes Stiles’ cheek. “If you behave for me today, maybe I’ll let you suck my cock before bed. How does that sound?” 

“I’ll be _very_ good, Alpha,” Stiles assures him. The title slips out without him realizing it was coming, but it feels so right to say. Derek smiles at him and bends over to kiss him sweetly, smoothing the covers with one hand. His touch is so gentle, so loving. Stiles feels like the luckiest girl in the world. 

X 

Derek can’t believe how much he enjoys playing nursemaid to his precious girl. He fusses over her every minute, making sure she’s comfortable and entertained and well-fed. He’d like her to be well-fucked too, but he’s being patient. He won’t do anything to risk her new body. 

She makes it hard, though. She’s always pouting at him, plaintively asking when he’ll knot her again. “My cunt is sore,” she whines at one point, rutting against the bed. “It wants you, Alpha. Please?” 

“Soon, darling,” Derek promises. He wants to make sure she’s completely settled in her body before he makes her come. She’s too afraid to look, even days after the procedure, and that frustrates him. She should be proud. 

After a week has passed and she’s healed enough that she can touch herself and explore, Derek takes a hand mirror and goes to the foot of the bed. “Spread your legs,” he tells her softly. “I want you to see.” 

She blushes. “I... I don’t know if I’m ready.” 

“Gemma.” He gives her a stern look, one that she can’t ignore now that they’re mated. Sure enough, her legs fall open immediately so she doesn’t displease her alpha. “That’s my good girl,” he praises, kissing the inside of her thigh. “Oh, sweetheart, you’re so beautiful. Look.” 

Hesitantly, she looks into the mirror. Her mouth falls open. One hand slowly reaches down to prod at the smooth, pink skin. “That’s...it’s all…” 

“That’s you,” Derek tells her patiently. He reaches out to touch her too, marveling at the feel of it. “It feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“I...I don’t know.” 

Derek fights down his irritation. He has to be patient. He takes her hand and teasingly drags her finger over her clit. “ _That_ feels good, doesn’t it?” 

“Oh!” She jumps a little. “Do that again!” 

He does, using his own finger this time. She stares at the hand mirror in fascination, watching herself quiver under his touch. She’s getting so wet for him. His cock throbs in anticipation, aching to be buried in those delightfully soft, tight folds, but he ignores it. They have to go slow. There will be plenty of time later for him to take his pleasure in her. 

Her breath picks up into sweet little pants. He keeps touching her, slowly rubbing her clit, pressing down teasingly. “This is just a taste of how good it can feel, princess,” he croons. “When I’m knotting you in your new pussy it’ll feel so amazing. You’ll come again and again just at the knowledge that your alpha is breeding you.” 

He can tell that she’s close. “Keep your eyes open,” he orders “I want you to see.” 

She whimpers, but opens her eyes. He feels her shake apart around him and watches with her as her new body works to make her feel better than ever before. 

“That’s my girl,” he says softly. “Such a good girl, Gemma.” 

X 

Stiles’ new body is _amazing_. 

Once he’s healed, Derek spends hours kissing him, holding his legs open so he can keep his lips working away at Stiles’ clit. Every orgasm is like a slow, tumbling wave, taking him under in dizzying rolls and leaving him coming up gasping and exhausted. 

He does whatever Derek asks, letting the alpha guide him through every step of his new life. He starts cooking again, and tidying up the house, and spends hours happily curled up in his library to read. His hair grows long enough that he starts experimenting with braids and buns and curls, posing for Derek so the alpha can tell him how pretty he is. 

Sometimes there’s a whisper in the back of his mind telling him that things aren’t right. Usually it’s when he’s alone for too long and his attention slips from what he’s doing, going back to thoughts he’s tried to keep locked away. Whenever the whisper comes he goes to find Derek. Derek always understands that his girl just needs some extra attention. He’ll let Stiles curl up in his lap for kisses and caresses, whispering gently to him reminders of how perfect their life is. 

And it _is_ perfect. Especially once Derek can knot him again. He still likes to knot Stiles’ cunt, not the new place that’s just for breeding, which Derek calls his pussy. Stiles loves to feel him thrusting in deeper and deeper, driven by his uncontrollable need for Stiles. Even better than that, though, are the long moments after the knot has formed, when they’re tied together in bed. Derek cuddles him close, whispering how wonderful his perfect Gemma is, how lucky Derek is to have such a perfect mate, how glad he is he chose his girl for his own that day in the library. 

Derek loves to come up behind him when Stiles is wearing a skirt and silk panties. He’ll slip one hand under the skirt’s waistband or up Stiles’ leg so he can run a finger over his panties, tormenting him with that silky touch. He goes so slowly, no matter how much Stiles bucks into the touch. Stiles knows he likes to hear the soft, kittenish moans and whimpers Stiles makes as Derek drives him to the edge. 

The best times are during the full moon. Derek is completely feral, unable to let his mate out of his sight. Sometimes he even gets out rope again and ties Stiles to the headboard, which makes Stiles giggle uncontrollably. His body is covered in love bites by the time Derek is sated. 

Or maybe the best times are in the mornings, when Stiles wakes up before Derek. He likes to watch his werewolf sleep, stubbled face handsome and untroubled, radiating warmth and protection. On days where Stiles wakes up first, there are almost never any bad thoughts. How could there be? It would be silly to think there’s anything wrong here. If there was, Derek and Stiles wouldn’t be sleeping in the same bed together, Derek content to let Stiles watch him in such an unguarded moment. 

One day, while Stiles is making breakfast, Derek comes up behind him. Stiles tenses in anticipation, expecting to feel his hand sliding into his skirt, but instead Derek wraps his arms around his waist. “Do you know what today is?” he whispers. 

“What?” 

“It’s our one year anniversary.” 

Stiles’ mouth falls open. He’s always losing track of time. “It is?” 

“Yes, it is. One year ago we met in the library. I’ll never forget that day, sweetheart. You made all of my dreams come true.” Derek kisses his neck softly. “This year has had its up and downs, hasn’t it? But now that’s all behind us. I love you, Gemma.” He kisses Stiles, stroking one hand over Stiles’ hair. 

Stiles wishes he’d known about the anniversary in advance—he wants to give Derek some kind of present. Then, as he finishes breakfast, it comes to him. He’s so excited he can barely wait for the rest of the day. When it’s time for bed he takes his time in the bathroom, coming out when he’s sure Derek is in bed. 

God, Derek looks so good right now. His shirt is off and the covers are casually tossed over his lap as he sits up, perusing some report Deaton had sent to him. He looks up and smiles when Stiles comes out. “What took you so long, baby? I want to knot you before bed. Celebrate our special day.” 

Stiles beams. “I’d like that. But I have something for you, first.” 

“Oh yeah? What’s that?” 

Stiles takes a deep breath and sinks to his knees by the side of the bed. He takes Derek’s hands in his. “I realized I’ve never said this yet,” he tells Derek, voice shaking with emotion. “Maybe I’ve been too scared. But I want you to hear it, today. I love you, Derek.” 

He knows that Derek will hear the truth of it this time. Sure enough, Derek’s eyes go so soft Stiles thinks he might cry. “Gemma.” He strokes Stiles’ cheek. “This is the best present I could ever have.” 

“You’ve been so good to me through all of this. I feel so silly thinking about how much trouble I was back when we first got together. I just want to make sure you know that I don’t have any of those old feelings or doubts anymore. I’m yours forever, no matter what.” 

“I know you are,” Derek says lovingly. “Give me a kiss, beautiful.” 

Stiles clamors up into Derek’s lap and kisses him happy. The kiss is a long one, starting out sweet and quickly turning wild. When Derek finally pulls away, his pupils are dilated. “All right,” he says roughly. “I think I should give you the knotting of your life now. Would you like that?” 

Gemma smiles. She would like that more than anything. 

X 

Sometime after that, their bliss is interrupted. Hunters come after them. Gemms is mostly sheltered from it; Derek doesn’t want her in any danger, so he keeps it hidden for as long as possible. When they actually attack Gemma is upstairs in the bedroom, hiding. 

Derek handles the small group of hunters on his own, but it troubles him. Gemma hates seeing her mate so upset, but all the kisses and hugs in the world don’t make the frown lines on his face disappear. Finally, after days have passed, he sits down with Gemma and gently explains that they have to leave Beacon Hills. 

“Leave?” Gemma says blankly. “Why?” 

“I’m worried there might be more hunters. They might come looking for their friends. Or someone else might find the bodies I buried in the woods. I don’t know what these hunters know about me—if they know you’re here, or who you used to be. The fact that they were able to find us here means that we aren’t safe and we have to go.” 

“But…” Gemma feels panicked. She’s always lived in Beacon Hills. “Can’t we wait for a while? To see if any more come back? If they don’t, we’ll know it safe!” 

“Sweetheart—they’ll send more next time. If a lot more of them come back, they could hurt us. They’ll kill me, right in front of you. And you—they would probably kill you, too. Or maybe they would try and convince you that you aren’t my Gemma at all. Oh, princess, I don’t like saying these awful things to you. But they would take away all your pretty dresses and make you cut your hair, and tell you that you’re a monster for being my mate. I can’t let them hurt you. We have to leave.” 

“But...but what about my library?” 

“I’ll build you a new one. Deaton’s arranged to get us to a special town that’s just for werewolves. We’ll always be safe there. And you don’t have to worry about staying hidden all the time. It’s perfect.” 

“Even though I’m not a werewolf?” 

“You’re my mate. Of course they’ll all accept you.” Derek wraps her up in a big, comforting hug. “You trust me, don’t you?” 

Of course she does. She nods slowly, scolding herself for feeling so panicked. She’s not leaving anything behind. Derek will be there, and that’s all Gemma needs. 

They leave later that week. It’s a little sad saying goodbye to the house, and the woods Gemma has always loved. It’s less sad saying goodbye to Deaton, who sees them off. “Be a good girl, Gemma,” he says, a little warningly, and for some reason it makes her hackles rise. 

As they drive out of Beacon Hills Gemma has to stay in the backseat with her head down. It’s hard, though—she keeps popping up to try and glance through the window. “Gemma,” Derek says disapprovingly when he sees her do it. “Stop it.” 

“I just want to look.” 

“What if someone sees you? They might recognize your face. Lie back down.” His voice is very stern, the kind of voice Gemma can’t ignore. She gives one last peek and ducks down again reluctantly. Derek’s right, anyway. What does she have to look for? Gemma Hale doesn’t need to say goodbye to anything in town. Everything she wants in life is right in this car. 

Once they’re away from the town she feels better. Derek lets her sit up front next to him. She stretches her legs up onto the dashboard, admiring her painted toenails. “You promise nobody will think I’m a freak?” she whispers. 

“How could they?” Derek twines his fingers with hers over the center console. “You’re perfect.” 

Gemma beams and gets comfortable in her seat. It’s going to be a long drive. She sneaks a look at Derek, wondering if maybe he’ll let her climb between his legs and blow him while he drives. An eternity ago she used to want to do that, but where _she_ was the driver. She’d been so silly there. Thank goodness she has Derek, who always reminds her of her place. 

X 

The town is just as nice as Derek said, even if it’s hard to meet people at first. Gemma has just known Derek and Deaton for so long. She lets Derek make the introductions, shyly smiling at everyone. Derek told her that everyone here understands their “situation,” though she doesn’t know exactly how many details that includes. She kind of wishes he hadn’t told her that. It makes her wonder if there’s something mocking in every smile she sees. 

Their new house is wonderful too. It’s still a little secluded—the whole town is pretty woodsy—and big enough for the litter of pups they’ll have one day. Derek unpacks all their belongings and carries them inside by himself, while Gemma sits on the grass outside and thinks about how nice it is to have such a big strong husband who can do all of this for her. 

Once everything is moved in they christen the house, Derek alternating between Gemma’s cunt and pussy as they make love in every room. They finish in their new bedroom. When they’re satisfied Gemma snuggles into Derek’s arms. “Let’s do this again tomorrow,” she says breathlessly. 

Derek laughs. “Tomorrow we have real work to do. I have to meet with some of the alphas in town. And you’ll need to go grocery shopping.” 

“Alone?” Gemma can hear the panic in her voice. 

“Yes, sweetheart. You’re a big girl. You can do things without me.” 

“But...but what if bad thoughts come when you’re away? What if I forget how things are and decide I want to run away...or…” 

“Shh. That won’t happen, baby. You haven’t had thoughts like that in a long time. And there’s no chance you could run away. The roads in and out of town are guarded. Someone would catch you, and call me, and I’d come make you feel much better.” Derek kisses her reassuringly. “Don’t be scared. I know you can do it. You don’t need to be shut up inside anymore.” 

Gemma snuggles a little closer. It’s scary, to think about being on her own—being Gemma even when Derek isn’t there to remind her why that’s important. 

But she can try. For Derek, she’ll try anything. 

Still, she doesn’t like the idea of them being away from each other. “You’re not going to make a lot of guy friends and abandon me, are you?” 

“What?” He laughs at her. “Of course not, angel. Why would you think that?” 

“I don’t know. It’s just…it’s just been the two of us for forever. I know that guys sometimes ignore their girlfriends when they make other guy friends. And these are _your_ people. They’re werewolves, and I’m not. I just worry that maybe you’ll want to be with them more than me. That’s all.” 

“Oh, honey.” He pulls her tighter into his arms. “I know that things used to be so hard for you. I know boys never paid you the kind of attention you deserved. But I’ll _never_ ignore you. Nobody here could ever be as important to me as you are. They’re not pack. _You’re_ my pack, Gemma. Do you understand that?” 

His face is so earnest, and her heart swells with love for him. Nobody had ever treated her like this before, like she’s the whole world. “I do,” she whispers. 

“That’s my princess.” He kisses her, and strokes her hair gently until she falls asleep in his arms. 

X 

After they both settle in a little, things aren’t as strange. Gemma still prefers to stay at home, but she can go out to shop or visit with other women in town. The best thing, though, is to be home with Derek. 

One of the women in town has a baby. When Gemma and Derek visit, Gemma can’t take her eyes off the little thing. She’s so ready to have Derek’s baby. She dreams about it sometimes, the rounding of her body and the little kicks coming from inside. She wants it so badly it makes her ache. It’s hard to believe it’s even possible, sometimes. That little whisper of doubt that sometimes manages to make its way from the deepest parts of her mind tries to tell her that she isn’t made for this. She just wants it to happen, to prove that little voice wrong. Maybe then she’ll never hear it again. 

Derek feels the same way. When they get home and she’s changing for bed he comes up behind her, sliding his hands around her middle. “You’re so gorgeous,” he murmurs, kissing her neck. “Imagine how you’d look pregnant. You’d be glowing...so pretty, so perfect, and all mine.” 

“All yours,” Gemma repeats dreamily. Derek slips his hand down to run at her front, fingers teasing the edge of her pussy. She sighs and tips her head back. As the pleasure builds inside of her she feels herself starting to rock back against him, imagining how it would feel if he was thrusting into her. Imagining his knot locking in and filling her up. 

“The full moon is on Friday. Should we do it then?” 

She can’t speak for a moment as his fingers tip her over the edge. She rides out the orgasm with his fingers still inside her. “Yes,” she gasps, when it’s over. “Yes, please.” 

X 

On Friday, they get nothing done during the day. Derek feels excessively possessive, growling whenever Gemma leaves his sight. When she goes to take a bath he follows her, climbing in with her so he can make sure she smells just like him. 

Derek has never felt so confident and excited in his life. He keeps thinking back to the day he met her. He’d known immediately that she would be a challenge—that making her his girl would be a task worthy of the greatest alpha in the world. He has bent the very forces of nature to his whim. Tonight his beautiful mate will become pregnant, and her metamorphosis will be complete. 

Finally the moon is high in the night sky and they can begin. He can tell that Gemma is nervous, and he offers to tie her hands to the headboard, so she won’t panic halfway through and try to push him away. She never misbehaves anymore, but tonight will mark a big change for her, and he wants her to feel as secure as possible. She accepts gratefully, holding up her arms like a good girl until he’s finished tying them. He makes sure to leave plenty of slack, so she’ll be comfortable. 

He bends to kiss her gently, trailing down her neck. He takes some time teasing her nipples, until she’s gasping and writhing beneath him. “We’ll have to train these,” he whispers to her. “Hale pups are such demanding feeders. But you’ll be a good mama, won’t you?” 

She nods. He can feel her hips rising impatiently, trying to rub against him. So eager to be bred, to be his good girl. 

His wolf side is urging him to mate, to breed, to finish this as it’s meant to be, but his human side needs something else first. “You won’t ever leave me, will you?” he breathes, moving his lips down her belly, following the scent of her arousal. 

“No, Derek. Never.” 

“Because you love me?” 

“Yes, Alpha. I love you. I love you forever.” 

“Say your name for me, sweetheart.” 

“Gemma!” Her voice is high and airy with need. “Oh, please, Derek…” 

He kisses her again, once more, as fiercely as he can. Then he thrusts into her, letting the animal take over. The wolf is howling with pride and pleasure, safe in the knowledge that this perfect girl will belong to him for as long as they live. The knot catches and swells inside her. He watches her face as the first orgasm takes her under. When she comes back from it, the first thing her eyes find is his face. 

“I love you,” she whispers one more time, and he knows that neither of them will ever doubt it again. 

X 

Gemma loves being pregnant. She’s a little sick at first, and her body is very sore for the first few months, but it’s worth it to see how happy Derek is. 

He brings her books on motherhood and so many maternity dresses, enough that she could wear a new one each day of her pregnancy. At night he plants his hand over her belly, holding his whole pack close to him as he sleeps. 

The only really uncomfortable moment is when her milk comes in. She’s been looking forward to it—the only part of her body she’s really self-conscious about are her tiny, puffy breasts—but it happens overnight, waking her up with the pain. It’s a full day before it subsides a bit, and she knows _this_ transformation is complete. 

Even though she had wanted it, she still feels a pang of dismay as she looks at herself in the mirror. She’s suddenly gone to at least a B-cup, tits heavy and milky and topped with a wide, dark nipple. She touches one and gasps at how strong the sensation is. 

Derek comes to stand behind her, cradling her belly. He looks positively enamored. “Look how beautiful,” he coos. He leans over her should to teasingly kiss at the tops of them, making her gasp again. 

“Will…will they always be like this?” 

“I think so. That’s what the research you found indicated. I plan to keep you pregnant for the next few years, so they’ll certainly be like this for a while.” Derek beams at her, proudly. “You look so perfect. Aren’t you happy?” 

She looks again and smiles slowly. With Derek behind her, holding her close with love shining in his face, she suddenly doesn’t look strange at all. She looks like the beloved mate of an alpha, perfectly crafted to bear his pups. She looks beautiful, strong, and adored. She looks just how Gemma Hale is supposed to look. 

The pup starts to kick, as if it agrees. She smiles and puts her hand over Derek’s on her belly. “I can’t wait to meet him,” she whispers. “I hope it’s a little boy, who looks just like you.” 

“I don’t care what it is. We’ll have lots of little boys, and little girls as beautiful as their mother.” Derek closes his eyes in delight as the baby kicks under his palm. “I think we’ll be meeting him soon,” he murmurs, directly into her ear. 

He’s right. Three days later, Gemma becomes a mother. They have a boy, beautiful and perfect. When she looks into his wrinkled little face for the first time, love, for him and her mate, swamps her. She will never be able to thank Derek enough for making this possible, for sharing his magic with her. 

She sits with him in the rocking chair Derek made for her and guides him to nurse. He latches immediately, following his instincts, knowing his mother. Derek watches proudly. “We’ll need a name,” he says. 

“You can pick. I just want to keep looking at him.” Gemma coos down at the baby as he continues to nurse. Derek was right. He _is_ a hungry boy. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Derek comes over to kiss the top of her head, and stays there so he can admire his little family. “How’d I get so lucky, huh?” he murmurs. “How’d I get so lucky to find such a perfect mate?” 

She smiles up at him. Of course, it wasn’t luck. _Derek_ made her the perfect mate. He’d been so patient, so loving, even when she’d been so silly and confused. 

“I’m the lucky one,” she tells him, and means it. So lucky to have been spotted by her alpha in that library. So lucky, to be holding her perfect new son on her lap, dreams of the pups to come already in her head. 

So, so lucky, to be Derek’s girl.


End file.
